


The Holiday

by meddowstaylor



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Fluff, Holidays, I love Tim a lot and writing him as a bad guy is more difficult than I thought, M/M, Movie inspired, New York and London, and a lot of Brian and John being the cutest pals too, home exchange goes better than planned, lots of Roger Freddie friendship, minor original character death, past Roger Taylor/Tim Staffell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21664963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meddowstaylor/pseuds/meddowstaylor
Summary: Roger is heartbroken, fed up with his love life and of being a second choice. John is out of a relationship, equally as lost. They decide to exchange houses and find out both New York and London have more to offer than they expected this holiday season.Based on the movie “The Holiday”.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor, John Deacon/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 47
Kudos: 77





	1. I (won't) be home for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This is my attempt at combining one of my favorite Christmas films with my maylor and deacury obsession, trying to step away from the angst and into the fluff and take a chance at writing a chaptered story. There should be regular updates until Christmas/New Year. As I said, “The Holiday” is a movie I enjoy a lot and the premise is taken from it, but the story has its own changes. Not gonna lie, I’m a bit nervous about posting but I’m hoping you’ll like it. Come say hello in the comments or over at tumblr / meddows-taylor.
> 
> I don’t own The Holiday, its characters or Queen. I also love Tim Staffel with all my heart, make no mistake. And I know nothing about guitars and instruments in general. Oops.
> 
> I hope you enjoy !

“I have a question for you- Do you get extra points for being the only one working on a Friday, which would be no surprise coming from you, but on top of that on our Christmas party?”

Roger willed himself not to turn around and finish typing. 

Where was he? 

“ _The desired song choice for the encore surely fired up the crowd_ ”… shit, what was the song? Eyes on the screen, Taylor!

“Or is it your strong commitment a way to outshines us all who are slumming around?” 

Fuck. It was a song from their second album, Roger was there when they had recorded it, what was it? He heard a soft sound behind him and he gathered Tim must have pulled out a chair and made himself comfortable in Roger’s little office nook. He needed the song name, he couldn’t be staring at the screen and avoiding him without a reasonable excuse.

“Huh! 'Glowing Nights!'” Roger exclaimed out loud

“Is it fun having a brain that works that fast?” Tim chuckled

“Shut up,” Roger said, blushing, thanking the Gods he was still facing his computer and the reflection didn’t give away the small smile creeping upon his face.

“You mean what it feels like to be the only one changing around his article only 10 minutes before having to hand it in?” Roger said, trying to go for a nonchalant tone, but hyper-aware of the pair of eyes glued to the back of his head. He added a few quick sentences about the band’s upcoming gigs - after all, he had only decided to change his piece so the new group could get the word out about the extra shows- and he skimmed it over before hitting send. Only then did he take a deep breath and turned around to face his ex-boyfriend.

“And I’m sure it was brilliant as usual, better than what any of us could come up within three weeks of writing” Tim said. Roger tried very hard not to blush or smile at him but he finally failed at both.

“Hi, Taylor”

“Hello,” Roger said, suddenly aware of how tiny his crappy office space was. He tried to recall when the last time Tim and he were alone in such a small space had been - probably July, around the time Tim had snatched them tickets to The National’s show. The venue was big and crowded, but the back of his car was small and quiet. Or maybe it was the next day, the two of them alone in the elevator when he had found out the only reason Tim had asked him to go was that his girlfriend was out of town and the tickets were unclaimed.

As if reading his mind, Tim smirked at him and crossed his arms, crinkling his suit. Roger really hated the way he dressed now, raging from carefully curated band shirts that he got at trendy stores and not actual shows, or expensive-looking two-piece suits. He guessed that’s what came with dating the newspaper’s daughter anyway. 

“Oh, I loved that line in your column today” Roger supplied, not because he particularly cared for it (to be honest he hated Tim’s new content and the one-hit-wonder bands he followed around), but he needed something to fill the awkward silence. “ _A quiet remembrance of what used to get us on our toes at the record stores, dead at the feet of young rebellion_ ”, he quoted. “Brilliant, really”, he stuttered.

Tim just continued looking at him with a puzzled expression on his face, but Roger could tell the casual stroke to his ego was always a safe route to take to distract him. “I, uh, got you a Christmas present,” Roger said, looking down, playing with his desk drawer’s key, avoiding Tim’s gaze.

“Oh”, he said. “I actually got you something too”

Against his better judgment, Roger’s heart leaped with joy. He retrieved the little envelope wrapped in paper and handed it over to Tim, who now looked kind of sheepish. 

“Oh, Roger. I didn’t mean I had it with me”, he said. “But I know you’ll look hot in it”, he added winking.

“oh, that’s okay”, Roger tried to keep the disappointment off his voice. “Well, this not exactly hot but,…”

“Wow. Cream’s 71 issue on The Who? How did you even track this down?”

“It was no problem, a buddy of mine knows someone who knows someone who collects them, and, well, it was only the matter of making a phone call” he bluntly lied. It had meant saying goodbye to all of his December bonus, the money that was supposed to go towards getting more inventory for their store. Freddie was going to kill him - not for spending the money, but for spending it on his ex-boyfriend.

While Tim flipped the pages of the magazine eagerly, Roger recalled his last talk with his friend.

—-  
_  
“You know most of the people don’t stay friends with their exes, right?” He reprimanded Roger while sawing some buttons on an old jacket._

_“We are not friends, Fred”_

_“You’re not supposed to be his last-minute date for shows, and go over his crappy columns with him on your lunch breaks or sneak off the back to talk to him on the phone when I’m around”, Freddie continued._

_“I don’t! I go to smoke because I can’t in here”_

_“uh-huh”_

_“and I don’t help him with his work. We just bounce ideas off each other”_

_“uh-huh”_

_“and I said no to the last show he asked me to, remember?”_

_“you told me you said no but you went anyway. I know, Crystal told me you asked him to close earlier that night”_

_“Damn”_

_“Roger”, his friend pleaded, his tone shifting to a more gentle one. “You’re not supposed to be your ex’s friend especially if he cheated on you”_

_Roger sighed and gave in, dropping his defensive attitude._

_“And more so if he keeps you on his grip when he is dating your boss’ daughter”. Roger turned his face, going for his pack of cigarettes and rushing to get out the door before Freddie kept interrogating him and showcasing just how pathetic and sad his life was._

_“Rog?” He called out, and Roger’s hands froze on the doorknob “promise me you’ll try to find someone who sees all the wonderful things about you and doesn’t toy around with your hopes?”_

_“Yeah, like those kinds of guys come crashing through your door in the middle of the night”_

——

“Roger? Roger??” Tim’s voice brought him out of his daze, and he tried to block the memory out of his mind because he felt like he was somehow failing Freddie yet again.

“Yeah, sorry”. 

“I actually wanted to talk to you about something…”

This was it. Roger could feel it. Screw the silly Christmas present, he was finally going to end things with his girlfriend. His very, very clueless girlfriend that had no idea Tim still came back to him, called him, promised he still cared…

As if being summoned, there was a knock on his door and Catherine walked in. Gorgeous and rich and with connections, everything Roger lacked. Hell, she could even fulfill Roger’s dream of recording an album solely by asking her dad for it. 

“There you are, honey”, she intertwined her hands with Tim, who quickly dropped the Cream magazine. The hundred of pound’s worth, collector’s item magazine Roger had been tracking down since August. “They are waiting for us”

Tim apologetically looked at Roger and headed for the door, and she added “all of us, Taylor. My dad is about to give his annual speech”.

Right. Hearing his boss’ boring end of the year speech was going to be the cherry on top of a delightful night.

“Okay, we are all here now. There’s my beautiful daughter” Mr. Jenkins started “actually, where’s Mr. Taylor?” 

“Trying to blend in the crowd and disappear until after the holidays break”, Roger thought. But he forced a smile when all eyes were on him 

“Oh, yes, there you are. See, this concerns you. I have a scoop for your section, Mr. Taylor. “new performers and releases” will soon feature one of our very own, I hope.” Roger couldn’t say he wasn’t interested. 

“Everyone, give a big round of applause to Mr. Tim Staffell, Emerald Record’s latest sign”. A strong cheer erupted in the room, while Tim and Catherine smiled. Emerald Records? As in Mr. Jenkins’ close friend’s company? Roger loved Tim’s singing but that alone didn’t grant you a deal these days. Unless…

“Also, more big exciting news, fellows” Mr. Jenkins carried on. “On top of probably breaking the charts, I would like to formally congratulate Tim for his and Catherine’s upcoming wedding. Welcome to the family, son”

There it was. The other shoe dropping. 

Among the sea of people rushing to pat Tim on the back and get a look at Catherine’s engagement ring, Roger briefly locked eyes with Tim, doing his best to appear genuinely happy for him but slowly crumbling inside. 

He needed alcohol, his apartment and to disappear from the earth if he could.

——————-

“Really, Charlie? my accountant??” John said through clenched teeth. He was trying to keep his voice down, sure everyone gathered outside would hear. His whole team was celebrating an early new year at their company before their break, and of course, that was the moment his boyfriend had decided to screw around with one of his workers. 

“I did not sleep with him, John, I swear”

“This is why I knew it wasn’t smart to hire you. Shouldn’t have mixed business with feelings, should have listened to Brian” he said, more to himself, pacing around the room.

“oh please, Brian never liked me”, Charlie said, dismissing him.

“And now I understand why!” 

“John, I did not sleep with him. Calm down, okay? You always assume the worst in people, and you know we’ve had problems for months now. All you worry about is the company, how many units we can put out and how to sell it to bands as fast as possible. It’s literally all you talk about”

“oh, so this is my fault now?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. Will you listen to me? You can’t deny you are work-focused…”

“…somebody has to be”

“And you never let me in. You only talk to Brian and the little time we have together you drag me to kids’ stupid birthday parties”

“Okay, do not bring my nieces into this”, John said raising his voice.

“… and I’m not even going to talk about our sex life because, to be honest, I can’t even remember the last time we had it!” Charlie finished his rant. John took a good look at him and felt he didn’t know who this person was. They had been together for almost one year and a half and as usual, Charlie was refusing to take responsibility for anything he did.

“Look, Charlie, it’s over. You can go work at the LA office if you want to, but to be frank, I just don’t want you near me”

“This is so typically John. Sending everyone that comes near you away, closing off, calculating every step. Look at you! I’m here losing my mind and you’re the only guy I know who can break up with his boyfriend and not even shed a tear”

John puffed out some air, letting the low blow go.

“Just tell me. You know it’s over. Charlie, tell me - did you sleep with him?”

John could hear noises outside his door, and he tried to stay calm. He didn’t need his employees knowing what a mess his personal life was. That’s why he often chose to not have one.

“Yes”, Charlie sighed. “Yes, I did, you were right. Are you happy now?”

John banged his fist on the table. Fuck people hearing the mess. “HAPPY?! Are you really asking me if I’m HAPPY, Charlie?”

“Don’t twist my words…”

“OUT. I want you out. Forget the LA office, forget everything. You and your little lover are out of here. Just don’t go around spilling this to everyone”

He took a shaky breath, grabbing his phone to text Brian. It was almost the middle of the night, he was probably asleep already, and it wasn’t John’s place to disturb his few peaceful moments. He was just going to handle this on his own, like he had done most of his life. 

He heard Charlie leave the room and he looked outside the window, to the icy New York street. The city was so alike him, seeming so calm among all the noise, full of movement but mysterious still. John had fallen in love with it the moment he had moved there, with how different from Leicester it was, a new blank page to restart his life. He shut his eyes strongly, feeling them sting but nothing more. “Come on, one tear”, he pleaded with himself “just one tear, John, react like a normal man once”. 

His phone rang and he looked at the email on his work account. The new amps had completely sold out on the west coast and it was only three weeks before Christmas. It was a success even he had not anticipated. He wrote back to a few people, forwarded some invoices. Before he realized it he had completely forgotten about what had happened a few minutes ago.

“John?” His assistant popped her head through the door. It was clear from her cautious attitude that she had heard everything, or that Charlie had updated everyone on what had gone down. He never really cared for following John’s wishes anyway.

“We sold out the E15 units” he informed her. He didn’t feel up to discussing his failing personal life with her.

“Oh”, Patricia said. “That’s great. That’s excellent news John, congratulations!” she beamed.

“Yeah. And makes us hanging around here for the next weeks unnecessary, don’t you think?” Before he could help it he was speaking without thinking. “You know what I believe we should do? I think we should move our break forward”

“you’re kidding, right?” She said in disbelief. “You always say this is our busiest time of the year”

“yes, but I think we’ve had a great term. At least the company has” he added. “I think it’s time to go back to England” now he completely caught himself off guard. He hadn’t flown back in four years, coming up with excuses to keep himself in New York. 

“I think that’s a great idea” she smiled genuinely “You’ve worked yourself mad the last couple of months, you deserve it. Go, we’ll hold the fort here for you, boss”.

John nodded and headed outside, where everyone quickly shut up when he walked through. He avoided people’s looks and said a quick goodbye.

On his way home on the Q train, he opened his phone and searched for flights. That was easy, taken care of. Now, where would he stay? He hated the idea of going back to his town for Christmas, where he had no family left and everyone would ask about his life. Manchester was never his favorite place either. The answer seemed so obvious he refused to acknowledge it. He was an English man crawling his way back to the motherland. There was only one place to go. But he refused to spend the holidays secluded in a hotel room.

He remembered an article Ratty, one of his tech crew had mentioned. “Home exchange?” He wondered to himself. No, he could never. Being on someone else’s space, invading their place. But he thought about the nice apartments he used to glance at when he was a teenager hoping he could live in the big city. He scrolled through a website and only typed in one requirement: “rehearsing space”. If he was going to go back to his roots, he might as well go full in.

—————-

Roger finally made his way home, his feet dragging behind him. He unlocked the door and glanced at his drums neatly seat up in his spare room. He knew making some music would clear his head but all he wanted to do was throw himself into bed, pretend the day had never happened. Pretend the last two years had never happened. 

He recalled his ingenuity when he had moved to London from Cornwall, full of excitement and dreams of making it big with his music. He had met Tim at a bar after responding to an ad that was looking for a drummer. They had spent the night talking about bands, music idols, influences. Against his better judgment he had ended up falling in love with him, and after three months of knowing him they had started dating, the band shuffling from guitarist to guitarist and never finding the right fit. They had vowed to keep performing, but soon Tim had lost focus and Roger his motivation, completely immersed in his relationship. When Tim had talked to him about a job opening at the music newspaper he worked on, he had advised Roger against making their relationship public. He assured him he would tell his coworkers about it eventually, and he had skillfully convinced Roger on that being the most sensible decision for their future. He had also talked Roger into putting their band finally on hold, and he was so smitten he had agreed to that too. Slowly he had found his way through writing articles instead of songs, and he enjoyed giving recognition to bands that were starting out. If he couldn’t become a famous rockstar then at least he would help others gets there. 

Nowadays he only played for himself (and Freddie, who also was an amateur musician) and had their clothing store as a side gig. He was a restless person and he looked for anything that would keep him occupied, or as Freddie said, away from trouble. Trouble being Tim most of the time.

He loved London but everywhere he went he was reminded of his ex. Their first show together, their first lunch at Battersea Park, their first fight at Roger’s favorite coffee shop, the first time Freddie had almost punched Tim in the face after finding Roger crying in his car. He wanted to stay in London but only if it meant it could be the safe, enjoyable place it once was. Now with Christmas coming up all he was reminded of was how cold it was and how alone he was. He dreamt of somewhere new, somewhere where he wouldn’t be so helpless. 

He was avoiding his phone, sure Freddie would be calling and not strong enough to tell him the news. He glanced at it and instead of a flood of texts from his friend he found a notification from an app he had forgotten he had. It was some house-sharing site his sister had signed him up for when he had broken up with Tim and had crashed at her place for two weeks. “Maybe spending some time in a new place next time will help you, you know?” Claire had said and Roger hadn’t asked if she meant the next time he had his heart broken or the next time he couldn’t bear being alone in his flat. Well, it was both now, so the sudden message couldn’t have come at a better time.

“Hello, my name is John Richard Deacon and I’m wondering if the apartment is still available?” It was all it said. What kind of person introduced himself like that, Roger wondered. 

“Hello, John” he hastily typed. He pondered his answer and wrote back without much further thought. “yes, it is”

Three little dots appeared at the messenger screen. 

“I wonder if I could rent it?”

“I’m afraid it’s only up for home exchange, mate” Roger answered. “I’ve never done it before but my sister has - I’m Roger, by the way. Where are you?”. He hit send and said a silent prayer: “please say somewhere far away”

“New York” the stranger replied. “Manhattan”

Roger calculated flight rates in his mind, thought of the money he had saved up for a new guitar to start playing again. 

“let me ask you something John - are there any men in Manhattan, New York?”

Across the sea, John was walking home among the busy East Side streets. He thought of his last five years in the big city, one failed relationship and countless terrible dates. It seemed like an odd question, but he felt he must be true.

“honestly?” He wrote, “none”.

“Awesome! When can I come?” The English man replied quickly.

John got to the stairs of his building and sat on the steps, never putting his phone down. “tomorrow too soon?” He shot back.

“I’ll pack my bags right now!” He got as an answer. “I’ll send you all the details,” Roger said. 

John sent a quick text to Brian letting him know about Charlie and the company and apologizing for not being there for Christmas. “Going back home, mate,” he wrote. “Can’t believe I’m beating you to it”

\-----

Roger tightened his scarf around, hugged himself and tried to close his old coat better. Outside Heathrow airport the wind was insanely frigid even for the first week of December but he was braving it for a taste of his last cigarette in the ten-hour future. He had his luggage and what he had tossed in a duffel bag while leaving his apartment hastily a few hours ago, and not much besides an impending feeling of doubt. 

He checked his boarding pass on his phone and tried once more to reach Freddie. He knew ditching his friend on the busiest time of the year for the store was a pretty selfish move, even if Freddie used to run it by himself most days. Roger was sure after a detailed explanation over text of everything that had happened in the last 8 hours, Freddie would understand his spontaneous decision. If anything Roger was glad the news of his holiday trip would somehow divert attention from the whole Tim situation. If Freddie was a worse friend he would say “I told you so” in three different languages, sing it, do an interpretative dance to it , but since besides being the most dramatic person Roger knew he was also one of the most understanding and nice people there was, he would probably keep the gloating to himself for at least a day or two.

The sun was shining above Roger, stubbornly trying to peek through the clouds, and for the first time in a long time, he was hopeful. He couldn’t wait to do all the typical touristy things he always wished to do in New York, the kind of “basic” stuff Freddie would hate. Freddie was always going on about how superior Washington Square Park was to other parks, how skating in the rink at Bryant Park was a nightmare, how the streets were as filled with last-minute shoppers as London was, only ruder, how the tree in Rockefeller Center was probably rubbish in real life. Then he would take a look at the videos of Lincoln Center and the grand hall of the Metropolitan Museum and his brown eyes would light up, and he would make Roger promise him they’d get to see that one day. A feeling of aching crept on Roger’s chest, already missing his friend so much. Freddie wasn’t big on celebrating Christmas anyways, but Roger still felt bad for bailing on him. It was only 7 am so there wasn’t a chance he would pick up his phone, but Roger kept trying, needing to hear his voice before boarding, the same way he needed that last cigarette. 

Roger had told his editor as soon as he had booked his flight at 2 am that he wouldn’t be around for the three days they had to come to the office that week, and surprisingly she had emailed him back in ten minutes giving her okay. There was something true about how the news never slept, and the journalists behind them getting no rest either. She had signed off saying he “deserved it” and telling him to “relax and not worry about other tough things this time of the year”. So it was official, the whole newspaper pitied him after the night before. “Well, don’t be crazy, Rog,” he told himself, “they probably pitied you since way before that”.

His phone buzzed and he was hopeful Freddie had finally decided to text him back. Instead, his stomach dropped on the spot. There, underneath “Do Not Call Him” was a notification that merely said, “ _heard you finally decided to stop the gears for two seconds_ ”. 

Against all that told him to not open it and put his phone in airplane mode, Roger clicked on the little bubble while Tim was apparently crafting another text. 

“ _three lonely weeks without you, Taylor. It’s going to be tough. Not to mention lonely and cold._ ”

Roger grabbed his suitcase and entered the big populated space, resting against a wall while people came and went, checking arrival times and greeting loved ones. Some of them looked worried and busy, and he could even spot a few that were pacing around, clearly as affected as himself by the atmosphere, albeit probably for different reasons. He heard a lady call a connecting flight to Tennessee over the speakers, and a couple rushed by, running but in a fit of giggles and holding hands. When he looked down at his phone he recognized the familiar damp feeling in his cheeks, and with shaky fingers got to replying. 

“ _Tim- We both know it’s time I fall out of love with you. Would be great if you’d let me try_ ”

Roger hit send and walked over the counter. He turned his phone off, knowing there was a big chance he would miss Freddie’s call but reasoning he owed to himself to take his own plead seriously. 

———

John slept through all of his flight. It somehow felt as if he hadn’t slept properly in months and having 9 hours to himself where he knew no one from work could contact him was a huge advantage for his peace of mind. He felt his nerves subsiding the moment his plane took off from New York, but as soon as he stepped foot in London it was as if he was the same 20-year-old who had graduated and bid goodbye to England. As if on purpose his country greeted him with mayhem, with the news that his luggage was misplaced and wouldn’t get to him for at least 4 days. Some habits died hard, and he was still an engineer at heart, so he had packed a change of clothes on his carry on luggage, but he would have to do some shopping. In London. In early December. Talk about a relaxing first day in the city. 

He hopped on a taxi because he had to shamefully admit to himself that he feared driving on the wrong side of the road fresh out of such eventful hours. Well, it would be the “right side” but it felt foreign to consider it that way now. He hadn’t really driven much in over two years, but with his nieces not around John guessed he could indulge himself again. 

He gave the driver the address Roger had provided and while the streets passed by his window he feared for the first time that this could go terribly wrong. He was not one to make hasty decisions, and this seemed extremely out of character for him, who liked to plan every second of his day. He had been avoiding coming back to England for years, telling everyone building a new company required him being around, reasoning also that Brian needed his help, and lastly admitting only in private that after his parent’s death the place was only filled with bad memories. He had no one to come back to, and the damp and cold weather was a mocking reminder that he had been too much of a coward to pursue a music career and find a group of friends, and that he was truly alone now. 

He was a changed man, someone who at least had accepted who he loved and what things interested him, but New York felt like a safe space to explore that side of himself without worrying much. In England now all of his anxieties were pushing to come back, all of his inner worries seemed to scream louder, and he didn’t have a mediocre boyfriend or a busy work schedule to distract himself with. 

He got to the place Roger had sent him too, where apparently he had a spare set of keys to his apartment. John double-checked because Roger hadn’t sent him any extra directions, only an address, a store number and the name of who he had to see. Except there weren’t any proper stores, just little cramped spaces in a maze of clothes and antiques. It was close to midday and it seemed like half the stalls hadn’t opened up yet, and it was his luck that the one he was looking for hadn’t either. There was a distinct bohemian spirit present there, and the creativity and excitement were palpable. John felt oddly out of place, boring with his stupid designer jeans Charlie had coerced him into buying and his plain black button-up. He missed his long hair, for at least that would make him feel a bit more like his old self, but wasn’t all the change he had sought precisely about leaving that old part of himself behind? He chuckled when he remembered Brian’s appalled face when he had seen John’s new short hair a few months after meeting him, surely worried he was going to be next. But as John remembered fondly, Anna loved Brian’s hair and that alone meant he was never going to change it. 

The thought of Brian made him worry he hadn’t heard back from him, and he took out his phone to check on his friend. Maybe it was the jet lag, maybe the overpowering emotions of being back there, but John was clearly distracted. Someone took advantage of that and in a fraction of a second crashed into him, knocking John on his ass and taking his phone with them. It all happened so quickly that he couldn’t call out for anyone to chase after the robber and the second he was on his feet rain came pouring down on him. Perfect.

He wanted to yell and the frustration made him wish once again that he could cry, but he made do with just pushing his bag closer to the wall and vowing to leave London as soon as he could and he was dry again. 

A few minutes after that he stepped on the sidewalk, deciding to let go of this crazy idea and hailing a taxi to the airport again, putting his little excursion to England behind. But something was pulling at his bag - someone was pulling at it. He looked down to see a small black cat digging his little claws at his bag and John pulled at the handle softly. When the animal wouldn’t let go John sighed and bent over to gently detangle it from his grip, and the cat decided to start scratching his jeans instead.

“Romeo, stop that right now!” He heard a man call out and the animal turned its face quickly, clearly looking for its owner. John followed it’s look too and saw a man carrying what looked like two bags filled to the brim with fabric, and rushing to apologize. “He is fascinated by wheels lately, sorry” he offered “and now apparently by dashing strangers too” he added with a smile.

He lifted the cat up and balanced the bags difficulty, and without thinking, John offered a hand. His British chivalry was apparently coming back too, after years of suppressing it in New York. 

The stranger smiled at him and handed both of the bags, clearly more occupied with looking at his cat in the eyes and laughing when it poured in content. He started walking towards the market and presumably just assumed John would follow, which he did as if by command. When they got to a small door he pulled out a set of keys and opened the door. He handed over the cat that was licking his fur like this was not a big deal. 

“Thank you, dear, you can drop that anywhere,” the man said when he saw John was frozen in place. “The bags, I mean, not Romeo. He gets moody if he isn’t by the register, the money-hungry bastard” he laughed again and John blinked dumbfoundedly. Only then did he realized why the tiny space looked familiar.

“You have to be kidding me” John said, letting go of the cat.

“Excuse me?” The man said.

“Are you Freddie?”

“Well yes darling, and I hope whatever you heard it’s half good and half-true” he leaned in the counter.

“I heard you would be here by 11, that’s what I heard” John replied stubbornly. The man’s expression shifted slightly, as if trying to figure out where John would have heard such a ridiculous thing, but squinting his eyes in curiosity. John was furious, tired and annoyed, he reminded himself, it was really not the moment to take notice of how gorgeous those eyes were.

“Roger sent me here…?” He supplied, because the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he would be out the door and out of the country. 

“Oh my God, you’re the American guy!” Freddie exclaimed

“-I’m not American”

“yes, I can see that now, Romeo is picky when it comes to friends. Not necessarily fond of foreigners”

John looked at the animal, that was staring at the wheels of his bag like it was catnip. He felt like he had stepped onto some otherworldly dimension, or that he was hallucinating from the lack of caffeine.

“ -and when I get ahold of him I’m going to milk the whole leaving-me-alone-to-run-our-business thing for at least a month. Oh, I’m going to demand extra gifts for making me his errand boy, too, and force him to open here every morning, but also kind of congratulate him from finally moving over that jerk-“ Freddie had apparently continued rambling, paying no attention to John and fidgeting with something in a little room in the back from where he came and went “-and he better not find a band there and take his secret songs to some pretentious Brooklyn singer, otherwise I’ll trash his drums-“ he disappeared again and when he came back he kept on talking but pushed a cup of tea in John’s hands. 

“So,” he finally stopped, looking expectantly at him “sorry for making you wait. I’m guessing you want his keys?” 

John took a sip and clicked his tongue. “Actually, I was hoping you could tell him I’m backing out of our deal. He can stay at my place, I don’t want to go back there anyway, I just, Uhm, I think this was all a huge mistake. Maybe I’ll go somewhere else”. He drank again to do something other than stare at the amused look in the stranger’s face. “I would tell him myself but I just got mugged and they took my phone. So, I guess thanks for the tea, Freddie”

He accepted the cup back and took the cat in his hands, maybe fearing it would jump on John again. 

“How long have you been here?”

“Uhm….” John checked his clock “four hours?”

“Wow, we really made an impression on you, didn’t we?” He smiled

“It’s not that, I really feel it’s my own damn luck that’s just going to follow me around, and I really don’t want to be here, and without my luggage or my phone or-“

“Hold him,” Freddie said, handing him the cat again. John felt the poor fellow just wanted to be left alone so he lowered him down near the counter. Freddie was flipping through the clothes that were hanging around, grabbing loud print shirts and embroidered jeans, as well as a fluffy jacket. 

“Try this” he instructed, handing them to John.

Once again he felt like he was stuck in place.

“Come on, go, go, you can yell if I got the sizes wrong, but I think I have a good eye”. John kept staring. “You said you didn’t have your clothes, right?” Freddie continued “At least let me give you these, so you don’t have a completely terrible memory of the day”.

When John went to the corner that was surrounded by thick curtains and a couple of hangers, he heard Freddie’s voice call out “and if you choose to stay, you can’t say I left you to freeze to death”. 

John looked at the mirror at the printed shirt and bell-bottom jeans. He wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that in New York, which was the reason why he felt strangely encouraged to come out of the changing station and walk thought the store. He just wanted to see if the cat would perk his head in his direction, that was all. 

Freddie beamed at him from where he was standing behind the counter, rummaging through the bags of clothes John had dragged in for him.

“See? I knew you were a funky shirt man at heart, John” he said. John stared at the big mirror again and wrote off the soft blush in his face to the stall being incredibly hot for the time of year. 

John ended up trying three more outfits, one that included a plaid shirt and matching bowtie that made him roll his eyes, but except that all Freddie picked for him was actually really nice. They had good stuff there, and his business mind reasoned if it was better organized and properly advertised, they would have a foolproof success in their hands. He felt happy for Roger and Freddie, like he had known them forever and was proud of them.

In a tight long-sleeved shirt and flared jeans John looked nothing like he used to these days, but the style was somehow reminiscent of what he used to wear when he was in his senior year at college, during his 70s phase. Freddie did have a really good eye, or some magical abilities to see into people’s true self.

John took another look at the black cat, wondering if it would turn into a witch the moment he walked outside the market stall.

“That’s beautiful”, John commented, looking at the cream satin shirt Freddie was stitching, and handed him his credit card.

“Thank you. It’s not near done yet, but you should have seen the state it was in when I found it.” Freddie said. “That’s my favorite thing about this, coming across something that no one would look at twice and bringing new life to it,” he kept fiddling with the needle, “everything deserves a second chance to start again, you know?”, he said looking up straight into John’s eyes, and making him really ponder on that whole witch-thing again. 

“What’s this?” Freddie asked suddenly, looking at John’s credit card.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t get a chance to get pounds yet, but if you only take cash I still have dollars…”

“Nonsense. I told you it was a gift” Freddie handed him back his card. “Think of it as retribution for the damage Roger will cause to your place”

John laughed but pressed on, “Thank you, but I insist”

“Listen, John” Freddie cut him off. “If you decide that maybe London also deserves a second chance,” he handed him a set of keys, and a paper with Roger’s address and a phone number “call me if you need any help figuring out the apartment or if you want to try that shirt once it’s done”

John took the clothes and ran a hand through the cat’s head. 

“You’ll see, I think this city can surprise you”, Freddie said as a goodbye. 

John thought that maybe it already had.

\-----------

Roger had thought he would spend his first day in New York excitedly walking around the city, rushing from one place to another. It was cold but not nearly as much as London, and the first intake of crips air he took when he stepped through the gates of JFK airport felt like it awakened him. He hopped on a shared van and made a mental list of all the places he would visit that day. He was excited, grabbing his phone - no text other than Freddie asking at what time he had to show up at the stall and promising he would call - and taking as many pictures as he could. John’s house was near the park and even if Freddie would roll his eyes at his plans, Roger was going to stroll down there, all the way to the West Side, take pictures at Strawberry Fields and make his way back to 42nd street, maybe even get a peek at Times Square. He wanted to walk and walk and lose himself in the crowd, and be as cliche and basic as he wished, and most of all, not care about a single person in London.

But he was not expecting John’s apartment to be like this.

He hadn’t properly listed it, so when Roger asked about it all John had said was that it was a three-bedroom place on the second floor of an old apartment building and that he had made some renovations to the place. Roger knew enough to figure that by the size alone it meant it was quite a nice home in the city, but he never imagined what it would look like this. It was modern and stylish, but it also had a touch of warmth Roger was not sure he’d find in Manhattan. The building itself was old but nice, with brown stairs and gorgeous flowers, and the key was safely kept in a combination lockbox by the door. The living room was not too big, but it had a fireplace that gave a welcoming homely feeling. There were no Christmas decorations around which was a bummer because Roger was kind of hoping for that, only four stockings with “J”, “B”, “M” and “C” letters embroidered into each of them. John’s room - and Roger’s temporary one- was all grey and dark green, tidy and uncluttered. A big flat screen hung on the wall and a wooden door led to the on-suite bathroom. 

Just next door there was a guest room that clashed with the whole place. It had two twin beds with matching purple and soft blue duvets and glowing stars stuck on the ceiling. Roger closed the door because it also smelled like soft lilies and he didn’t want the perfume to evaporate too quickly. Opposite it, there was Roger’s favorite room in the whole apartment, and so far his favorite place in all of New York. It was the reason he hadn’t left the house for the entire day and had stayed there like a kid in a toy store. 

The third bedroom and Roger’s current obsession looked like it was a studio slash office. It was just wonderland if you asked him. There were easily ten different amps by the wall, a Fender Jazz Bass and a Precision Bass and one gorgeous Fender Telecaster Guitar in its stand. A computer was hooked to a brand new console that Roger had heard a guy at the newspaper brag about owning a few months ago - apparently, they were made in Germany and not easy to come by. Framed posters by the wall stood out with legends of Motown and Classic Rock alike, and there were several pamphlets about a particular brand of equipment inside a folder on the desk. Roger had heard of it, an indie brand the guys writing for “Equipment and Gears” had drooled over, apparently their latest amp was solid gold, but his tight budget forced him to not even keep up with the releases. He made a mental note of looking into it and he left the folder on the desk, feeling like he was invading enough already.

Besides, his focus was on something else. As fate would have it, the money he had saved for a new guitar had gone into the last-minute plane ticket that had led him to this beauty, by far miles more gorgeous than the one he could have afforded. It didn’t scream expensive or particularly rare, but there was something that stood out about it. His fingers were aching to play it, and he lazily remembered it had been at least five months since he had played anything but his drums. All the instruments were there, and John had said to feel free to use anything in his house, but Roger was still hesitant.

He walked through the apartment again, ordered some food, and peeked through the door once more. Even the bass guitars looked tempting. 

He shot John a message asking him if everything had gone fine with Freddie (that could always go either way), but the text didn’t go through. He tried again, and then calling, only to find no tone. Roger wanted to ask about the instruments but he also wished to check up on him so he wrote him an email. Still after an hour, no reply. 

The sun was coming down and exhaustion was washing over him, and when he checked his phone again it wasn’t to see if John had replied, but instead to see if Tim had written back. It was almost 20 hours since he had left London - or something of the sort, he didn’t even know what time was anymore - and even if he had meant every word of his message, a sadistic part of him hoped Tim wouldn’t listen to what he had asked and would still reach out. 

Thinking of Tim with somebody else, realizing he would never be a priority, hurt the same in New York as it did in London. So Roger decided to wallow while enjoying John’s second most impressive collection in his apartment: fancy booze. There was everything to pick from- gin, rum, whiskey, every expensive wine known to man, French champagne and Roger’s choice for the night: vodka. He downed the first glass with ease, anticipating a bit of a headache, and by the third one, he was sitting on the kitchen floor laughing at the sheer bizarreness of this whole thing. Who even was this guy? Had he traded houses with some sort of secret service agent with expensive tastes? What was a guy who had a shelf of his fridge reserved solely for cheese doing asking him, a mediocre journalist, to exchange houses in the middle of the holiday season?

This apartment had everything Roger would ever wish for and knew he would never get to experience again. He poured another glass and made his way to the studio room. If he wasn’t as drunk he would have sworn there were angels singing the moment he got a hold of the guitar, and he willed his heart rate to relax and let his hands follow a steady pace. Soon he got lost in the sounds that were reverberating through the room and the whole apartment. He closed his eyes and swayed his body, feeling finally at ease and like he could clear his mind.

And then he heard it. A loud noise in the kitchen, a muffled voice, and some quick steps. Before he could help himself, he was reacting in panic and swinging the guitar at a tall figure looming over him, coming through the studio door. Roger sobered up slightly by the fear but definitely still felt dizzy, and he vaguely realized John would not be happy if something happened to his guitar even if it was to defend his life.

“Shit, the Telecaster!” Roger fell to the floor where the guitar laid, it’s headstock slightly bent. The figure next to him moved in pain, and Roger prepared to throw his small self onto him if it meant protecting the rest of the instruments.

“Hey, hey, hold up I’m a friend of John’s,” the man said putting his hands up. Roger froze on the spot but continued to be wary. 

“Who the bloody hell are you?” He put on what he felt was his most intimidating voice. 

“I’m Brian, Brian May, I’m a friend of John’s” the man said again, like that would make Roger believe him. He leaned on the wall with difficulty but finally sat against it and Roger tried to focus on his features, his long curly hair and his lanky limbs. Roger’s brain felt clouded at the moment, but the man looked a great deal like a dude that was in a couple of photos John had around the apartment. Maybe this was indeed a friend of his, but what in the hell was he doing inside the apartment when Roger was staying there.

“I could have asked you the same” the man said. Roger looked at him with his mouth slightly opened, trying to understand what he meant. The man, Brian, must have figured from his puzzled look that Roger was a bit off because he carried on. “You asked what in the hell I’m doing inside the apartment when you’re staying here”.

Oh great. The alcohol was making it so Roger was speaking out loud apparently. Thank God he hadn’t said how handsome the stranger was, or how he wouldn’t mind getting to push him on the floor again.

Wait. Fuck.

“Did you hear that?” Roger slurred slightly.

Brian laughed a chuckle so low and soft it made something twist in Roger’s stomach, and he said “No, but you look concerned.” Brian got on his feet and offered a slender hand to Roger, who took it to help himself stand up. A little part of his sober brain took notice of the calluses on his hands, and found it ironic he would meet a guitarist in these circumstances. 

“You must be Roger. I’m only now remembering John’s message, I’m so sorry”.

“Shit, the Telecaster. I’m screwed” Roger whined. His sole concern now was the ruined guitar. “John hasn’t even met me and he is going to kill me. I’m going to have to work my whole life to pay that off”.

“Let me see,” Brian said, and took the guitar off Roger’s hands, who was biting his lip in concern “it’s just a split in the head”, he sentenced. 

“JUST a split in the head? That’s it mate, I’m done for”

“This is easily repairable. But don’t take my word for it, I’m a little drunk” Brian said and giggled. Roger would have found it adorable if he wasn’t worried about facing deportation charges over damaged property. 

“And why would I take your word for it?”

“I put this together for John. A few years back, actually, but it has held out pretty well”

“Wait. You made this guitar?”

“well, I hardly made this one, no. I just repaired an old one John had found. I’ve made another one - and to think I believed recently it would be safer here. I wasn’t counting on factoring in your knack for throwing instruments”

“Hey” Roger defended himself.

“Hey! You attacked me with a guitar”

“Well, you startled me. How did you even get here?”

Brian's eyes went glossy and he stuttered a bit with his explanation. “You see, I live downtown, and on the rare occasion I get drunk and annoyingly anxious about my safety, John lets me crash on his couch so I don’t have to go all the way home. I knew he said someone was staying over, but I must have forgotten completely until I heard music and I put two and two together” He explained blinking so rapidly, Roger thought the room was going to spin if he kept focusing on his eyes.

“Huh”. He needed to lay against the wall too. 

“That was great, by the way,” Brian said, turning his head “Who was it by?”

Roger blushed a bit and fell into his habit of rubbing his shoulder inside his shirt for comfort “Uhm, that would be me”

“That’s impressive. Don’t tell John I said this, but that’s the best those amps have sounded since they were made”

“Well, thank you,” Roger said, not wanting to discuss his music anymore. He never wanted to, but he somehow felt like he was being analyzed by Brian, the guitar repairman. “So, you said you could fix this?”

“Yes. Tomorrow. Or the day after that. Either way, it should be all in one piece by the time John gets here”

Roger felt a weight being lifted off his shoulders and beamed. He couldn’t control himself before he jumped into Brian’s arms, hugging him close. Maybe he had miscalculated the amount of vodka that was still in him. Brian smelled faintly of whiskey too, and some musky perfume Roger couldn’t identify. He leaned back slightly and noticed Brian’s hands were on his waist and found he didn’t mind at all. In fact, Roger stared directly into Brian’s eyes, tilting his head upwards.

“And how could I repay you?”

Brian looked like a smart guy but that one seemed to go over his head. Roger was using his best, most cheesy line, and all he got as an answer was “Perhaps you would still let me crash on the couch until tomorrow?”

Roger smiled and tried to make this easier and more direct, least he would get cold feet and regret it. But it had been a crazy day and some more crazy wouldn’t hurt. “How about you share a drink with me instead and tell me about building guitars?”

Brian’s grip tightened and he leaned forward until their lips were a whisper apart. “I don’t actually feel like talking about guitars for once” he said and with that, he closed the distance between them. Roger’s last coherent thought was that he was indeed as smart as he looked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! this chapter ended up being longer than planned with all the setup. Stay tuned for the next one, with the consequences of the morning after for Roger and Brian, and more of what London has in store for Freddie and John, aided by Romeo the cat.
> 
> All comments and feedback are greatly appreciated, either here or at tumblr / meddows-taylor ♥
> 
> Actions


	2. Fortune Teller Miracle Fish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you so much to everybody that has left kudos and commented, writing this story is so fun and literally one of the only things keeping me semi-sane among final season, and your feedback is so great and helps keep me going.
> 
> Hopefully by the end of next week I’ll be able to upload, but I really want to participate in some way in maylor week, so chapter 3 may come a bit later, I’m sorry.
> 
> I hope you enjoy where the story is going and please let me know what you think!

A head-splitting headache. That was the first thing Roger registered upon waking up. The sun coming through the blinds and making him squint his eyes was the second one. The third one was his phone ringing.

UK calling. More specifically, a number he recognized well from years of working at the paper.

“Hello”, he answered as a reflect, knowing very well he shouldn’t.

“I waited until I figured you’d be awake, but I guess hearing your just woken-up-voice never gets old”

“Tim?” Roger heard faint noises coming from outside the room, and he had to readjust in bed to figure out he had ended up in the master bedroom. “How are you?” His mind was definitely detached from the conversation, making it more surreal to remember he was in New York, he was clearly hangover and he was naked. The night before and the days prior came rushing back.

“Can we start with a simpler question?”, Tim groaned. Roger let out a laugh, half a sneer really, and he willed himself to hate him, but he simply couldn’t. He had never been able to.

“I’m having trouble with my article. It’s not due for two weeks but it will be my last one.” Right, the last hurrah before making it big in the music business. Suddenly Roger had no problem remembering all too well. “I need some of those insightful leads that always come so easy to you”, Tim went on. A moment passed and Roger couldn’t really find the words to answer back. Then, “I also miss you. Why did you have to go to the other side of the world?”. 

Roger found his pants somewhere laying around the room and he peeked his head through the door. The light in the kitchen was turned on. He still hadn’t said a thing because it was as if his brain was trying to comprehend a million things at once, and it could barely handle one in this state.

“My hair was tired of the humidity”, he said, forcing a laugh but mostly just throwing the line in.

“Have you packed the black leather pants? You know, the ones that zip in the back?”. Tim sounded like he was clutching the phone close, not really whispering but not using his full voice either. 

Roger blushed and closed his eyes again. He really needed some aspirin. Or more vodka. Or to change his number and go missing for real. But he found himself going back to other old, harmful habits. “Do you remember my black leather pants?”

“I remember everything.” Tim said, and Roger’s helpless heart still clung to some hope “-so, would it be okay if I emailed you the first draft? I’m completely stuck, I wouldn’t think of intruding your escapade otherwise”

That headache was threatening to rob him of the last of his poor eyesight, and he wished he hadn’t left his glasses in his suitcase in the living room. “Yeah, if you need me”, Roger answered. 

“Great. Well, have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do”. If Roger tried hard enough he could picture Tim smirking as he always did when he thought he was being witty and charming. “Happy holidays, Taylor”

And with that, the line went silent. 

Roger felt exhausted again, and all the excitement of going out and seeing the city was gone just like that after a two minutes phone call. He wanted to crawl into bed and sleep until the new year, wallowing in how pathetic he knew he was. 

He heard a soft knock on the door and figured the morning still had more awkward encounters ahead for him.

“I heard you speak, I gathered you were up”. Roger was sure he’d love anyone right now that presented him with coffee, but the added bonus of the handsome man carrying the two cups helped a lot. 

“yeah, a friend of mine’s from London, he needed my help and-“ he was cut off by a notification alerting him of an email. Effectively, from Tim, with the draft attached and not a single word as the message. He felt like an idiot, and took the coffee, thankful for the caffeine and for having something to do with his hands so he wouldn’t fidget aimlessly.

“Figured you’d struggle with John’s coffee machine” Brian smiled. He was just as hammered as Roger was last night, how did he managed to look so put together and still so charming at 8 am?

“Excuse me?” Roger faked offense. Brian shrugged and walked to the kitchen, where even the mess of glasses and dishes Roger had left was taken care of. Brian pointed to the large machine, a clutter of knobs and buttons Roger had only seen in fancy cafés. 

“John has a thing about tech. I would say it’s annoying, but since it’s coffee I’m not complaining” He grinned again, and Roger’s hand instinctively went to his own neck upon seeing Brian flash the sharp fangs of his smile. He felt a blush creep up to him again and acted like he found the machine fascinating to somehow hide it.

Brian seemed hesitant to say something, but his phone rang and he took a look at the screen, before ignoring the call. 

“Listen, Roger, I..”

“Hey mate, you don’t have to do this.”

“Okay” Brian said tentatively. If anything, it was good knowing Roger wasn’t the only one struggling here.

“I mean, it was great meeting you and all, but you have nothing to worry about here”

Brian put down his coffee cup and stared at him, and Roger thought he was really pulling off this detached attitude pretty well. Freddie would be proud. 

“I don’t know how much I said last night but I’m really not someone who’s in a position to date right now” Brian started again, and Roger interrupted him only to help the guy out. He was not looking to date either, but he wanted this conversation to be over as soon as possible. 

“You really don't have to do this. Look, I’m not in a great place either, and anyway, honestly, we hardly know each other.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t put it that way….” Brian said and damn, there was that smile again. Roger crossed his arms and stared, because he found it endearing seeing Brian stumble with his words so much. It was a sharp contrast from the fast-talking guy that had literally crashed into him last night. 

Brian realized Roger was looking at him and excused himself again. “Right. Well, l just want to be sure you are okay because somehow… l find l tend to hurt people simply by being myself, so…”

“Brian, I’m not going to fall in love with you” Roger said, cutting him off.

“Wow. Thank you.” Brian sounded amused, and the air around them suddenly shifted to a more playful atmosphere. 

His phone rang again and he looked at it and sighed. “Well, that’s my cue”, he said. Roger shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and Brian took off a key from his pocket and handed it to him. “So I don’t give you another heart attack while you’re here”.

With that, he left. The place looked exactly like it did when Roger had gotten there. The kitchen was tidy, the living room pretty much the same except for his luggage. If he kept himself from walking down the hall to the music room and the bedroom, it was as if Brian had never been there. 

Not a minute had passed and Roger’s phone rang again. This time he took a look at the number and sent it straight to voicemail. He finally crawled into bed, the place smelling like coffee and cologne, the only reason why it felt somehow real and he couldn’t fool himself into believing he had dreamt up the last 24 hours. 

————

“ _Come on, like you could resist an extremely touristy picture in Central Park_ ”, Freddie’s text read.

“ _I’m serious, I was way too caught up in the moment to consider taking a picture_ ”, Roger replied. “ _Besides, traveling alone is a bitch, I don’t want to seem like the annoying type to ask people to snap a photo_ ”.

“ _That could be a good conversation starter_ ” Freddie’s answer came through. “ _Some cute guy may see all the amazing clothes you stole from me and absolutely ask you out_ ”.

Roger stared at the screen, guilt filling him up. Freddie was his best friend, and not only had Roger ditched him for the holidays and the chaos that the stall was probably immersed in, but he was also about to lie to him, for the first time ever in his life. Or, well, the second if he counted that one time Roger had messed up with Freddie’s watercolor brushes and blamed it on the cat. He knew Freddie and even if he was always egging him on to go out and meet new people to get over Tim, his friend also had a romantic side that he let few people see, and he was either going to be disappointed Roger had hooked up with Brian and let him go away, or throw himself in a rant where Brian and Roger ended up married and moving to London, and Roger couldn’t deal with false expectations and excitement now. 

“ _*Borrowed, mate. I never steal. You’ll eventually get your clothes back, don’t worry_ ”. There. Lying by omission was a bit better than denying something to his face. 

Roger thought about Brian and how perfect he had been the morning after they had met. The flashes that eventually came to his mind about the night they had spent together were pretty good too, but there was no point in dwelling over it. Roger hadn’t asked for his number, that was true- but neither had Brian. And even wrapped in British politeness, Brian clearly wanted to get out of the apartment as fast as possible.

That was not the case for Roger. It had been three full days since he had gotten there, and all he had seen of New York was the bodega down the street where he got the newspaper and his Marlboros, and the people that delivered take out to the house. Not that he was complaining, he had made good use of John’s fancy music room and instruments, and had finally finished a song after three months of creative block. He was tempted to record what he had on the computer but stopped himself from fear he sounded way worse than he expected. Brian’s words of compliment came to mind once again, and he tried to discard them. He hadn’t heard Roger sing, after all. Lately Freddie did all the singing, and their audience consisted only of Romeo and Roger’s sister when she visited. Slowly the dream of being in a band and on a stage, as opposed to writing about it, had died. For Roger, it had a lot to do with memories of performing with Tim. For Freddie, with being jaded after not fitting with any band. 

Roger felt privileged to be treated to Freddie’s amazing voice and musicality, but knew enough to not push him into anything. Into performing, into writing, into dating. Freddie felt most at ease when he was pestering Roger about these things and would quickly change the subject when the spotlight was on him. It was unbelievable after seeing how his presence could command a stage, but most of it was just an act, and Roger knew the man behind it. He needed someone as blunt as him that would show him how good he was, and that would value how unique of a person he was. 

Nostalgia got added to the mix, and Roger felt like a terrible friend for not considering Freddie’s feelings, caught up in all the mess that was his own life. 

“ _Actually, I’m gonna head out to get tea and see the big tree again, Fred. TTYL_ ”, Roger signed off.

He looked at the screen and figured he might as well make it a reality finally. Freddie was right, he was in New York and he ought to be freezing in the crowded streets like the rest of the people there. He would be hitting a new personal low if he spent another night locked in, editing Tim’s draft.

————-

John had stayed. Of course he had. He had a problem with leaving things unfinished, and that had meant endless nights of no sleep making sure his work was perfect, completing songs he knew he was never going to play, sticking around in not so great relationships and well, yes, staying in England against his better judgment. He had taken the first spontaneous decision in a very long time, and now it felt a bit cowardly to back out of it. His stubbornness usually worked in his favor, so now it was like tossing a coin to see how it would fare him this time. 

There was something else telling him it wouldn’t be right to just take off and leave. He had seen Roger’s drums and a guitar at home, and a lot of records and magazine clippings scattered around the living room. The place was nice but seemed stuck in time, as if John could picture it somewhere in the last decades. He took a look at the overfilled closet, clothes hanging around there that didn’t really look modern either. But still, they were some of the most stylish pieces he had ever seen. Some of them looked like stagewear, but judging from Roger and Freddie’s store maybe it was just what they wore daily. John felt the suede of the fringe of a vest, and he smiled to himself. He kind of loved this. He had always had huge respect for people who were unapologetically themselves, and for as free as he felt in New York, he realized he had been putting up a front. Not only in what he wore, favoring practicality over style, but on the things he did and said as well. It felt like he was constantly putting off doing what he wanted over other people’s needs. The office, his employees, even his relationships felt like sacrifices he made daily. The only thing that fully fulfilled him was his family. The only thing he missed about New York, if he was honest.

He grabbed one of Roger sweaters, sure he wouldn’t mind him using it since his own clothes were nowhere to be found yet. He had spent most of the morning arguing with the airline people about his luggage over the phone, a good excuse to have something to do.

Afternoon came around and the loneliness kicked in. John was used to it, having come to terms with feeling out of place at moments, and finding comfort in being on his own. He usually kept himself busy, long enough so that his mind didn’t wander much. Being at the apartment made him feel claustrophobic at times, not because of its size - John had never cared much for opulence and enormous houses - but because he was constantly self-doubting his decision to stay. Every part of it reminded him he was not home, and yet very close to what had felt like it once. 

He had sat on the small bedroom next to where he slept, looked around the setup and admired Roger’s little rehearsal space. He had equipment lying around, and John made a mental note of sending him some good amps as soon as he was back in America. The idea of making music crossed his mind, but he missed his bass and for once felt weird about playing by himself. He hadn’t really played in a while - not proper music at least. He doubted children’s songs counted. But wanting to go back to it seemed like a thought that belonged to another John, one who used to roam similar streets as these a while ago. He was probably a bit naive back then, but he was so certain about some other stuff, his bravado enough to make this current man he was now twist in doubt. He had written off his music passion as nothing more than a hobby when talking to others, and that was how his business had started too, as a way to involve himself with the tech stuff that always fascinated him. John was an accidental everything, and it was ironic how the most fulfilling things in his life came to him without much planning.

There was a nook by Roger’s window that felt cozy and safe, and for a moment John fantasized about staying there, finally unwinding. There was a pressure in his chest, and he held his arms tight around his frame, closing his eyes and waiting for something. He was not entirely sure what, but somehow standing still felt weird, and a newly found unnamed source of energy made him restless. It began snowing, in case going out was not difficult enough for him. 

\----

“Hello”, John said, finding the crowded stall without much problem. He had always had a good memory, but even if he missed it, the laughter and chattering from inside would have clued him in.

There were customers there, trying on metal necklaces and making weird faces at the clothes hanged around. John felt oddly protective and gave them a sour stare.

“Suits you”, he heard Freddie said, turning his head from the people he was assisting. 

John blushed and fixed his outfit looking in the mirror, wondering how he let himself be convinced to wear such a tight shirt in public. There was some German logo on it, and he tucked at the sleeve of Roger’s floral blazer that felt one size too small on him. He looked like he had dressed in the dark, he was sure, but a woman leaving the place smiled at him seductively. 

Thank God Brian wasn’t around to witness that, or John would have never heard the end of his teasing. He checked his new phone and scrolled through some texts Brian had sent. He sounded weird, a bit aloof, but the holidays were always tough on him. John reminded himself to try and call him later and finally have a proper conversation. Three days were maybe the most they had gone without talking since they had met in a bar near the Bowery, six years ago. Two Englishmen completely out of their element, who quickly discovered common ground in music and science. Two peas in a pod, as John had said in his best man speech.

He busied himself by sorting through some fancy rugs draped in a chair, and waited until Freddie was done, watching him coerce some costumers into buying a leather piece that they seemed uncertain about. At John’s feet something curled and purred, and he picked up Romeo to pat his head lightly. The couple left, satisfied and beaming, promising to be back soon. Freddie’s charm was certainly good for running a business, John noted, but he made sure anyone that came in left at least somehow happier too. 

“So, I want to pay you back,” John said, as soon as they were alone and Freddie rummaged in the room in the back, most probably making tea again. It was like he was on a quest to get John to drink all the tea he had been missing from years of being abroad. “I know you won’t take my money,” John called “but maybe you’d let me take you to dinner?”. 

Freddie suddenly emerged from the back, his brown eyes glistening slightly. John was grateful only the cat had witnessed how scarlet his face looked when he had asked. It jumped from his hands to the feet of its owner, making John lock eyes with him. Freddie looked interested but was still sporting the same questioning look that never seemed to leave him. “I thought it was only Romeo here you were interested in.”

“It’s not like that,” John rushed “It wouldn’t be a date”. Why would he say that?!

“And why not?” Freddie leaned against the counter.

“Oh, I, I haven’t really thought about-“ He had intended only to pay Freddie back his money, and maybe get some company since he knew no one now in England. Now he had managed to embarrass himself and insult the man in front of him.

“Relax, John” Freddie cut him. “You really do have a habit of tripping over explanations, don’t you?”. John breathed in and forced himself not to look away, knowing if he said something else he might ruin it.

“Okay, but don’t tell Roger we’re closing an hour earlier”, Freddie smiled.

\------------

It looked like there was no escaping the humidity that loved to wreak havoc on his hair. He used to blame it on the signature London fog, but the New York showers weren’t too kind on it either. Droplets got stuck in Roger’s locks, and the steam from the subway made them curl up slightly around his shoulders. He looked a mess and was sure of it, his cheeks pink and nearly numb from the cold. But for the first time in what seemed like forever, he hadn’t felt rushed. He didn’t need to be home by a certain hour in case the phone rang and he had to go out. It was Friday night and he wasn’t wasting it by hoping someone had canceled and maybe he was worthy of spending time with. 

He hadn’t even thought of Brian and his smile and tall, long legs, and he had gotten a celebratory hot chocolate as a treat for excelling in his first no strings attached one-night stand in a long time. Little marshmallows and all.

When he turned the corner, he saw a figure sitting outside John’s building, reading a book. So much for a celebratory hot chocolate. His heart raced, but the feeling of lightness oddly remained. 

“I bet the cold is making you regret giving me back that key”, Roger commented, standing close to the railing.

“Hey”, Brian said. He closed his book and stood up, reminding Roger of how he had towered over him. And there were those long legs.

“You’re not drunk”

“Well, no, I’m not”, Brian smiled. “I’m here for the guitar.”

Right. Of course. The guitar Roger couldn’t even look at without feeling like a terrible guest. And musician. And rational person. 

“See, I can’t sleep knowing there’s a harmed guitar in the world”, Brian smiled, and despite the cold, Roger felt like he could stand there for the whole night looking at him. Roger found his excuse endearing, and when he laughed Brian joined him. He didn’t want to read too much into it, but a voice in his head told him to go for it. It sounded suspiciously like Freddie’s. 

“It’s okay, we’ll get it after,” Roger said.

“After?”, Brian raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m not sure how much a guitar repair would cost me, but I’m guessing it would be more than a few pints”. He walked down the stairs and towards Lexington street, not bothering to turn and see if Brian was following him. He caught up with Roger in less than 10 seconds. Those long legs again.

——-

“So, where do you want to go?”, Freddie asked, grabbing a scarf that was hanged in the racks and closing the store. John wondered about the cat, but apparently it was perfectly happy being left alone at last. Freddie mentioned going back and picking him up after their dinner, which for some reason gave John peace. Otherwise, it would feel like too much all at once for their first time going out and- oh God, why did his mind keep going somewhere it shouldn’t? He tried to shake any foolish ideas like that off, but the more time he spent around Freddie the more his thoughts inevitably wandered. 

“I don’t know,” John replied “I hate admitting this, but I really do feel like an out of towner here. And besides, I’m not good at planning dates. I’ve actually been told that, several times”. There was his mouth again, betraying him.

“By?”, Freddie asked, leaving him out of the hook and not mentioning John slipping into calling it a date.

“My ex, for starters. I usually am a mess when I just meet someone. Which is partly why I went to the stall. I wanted to apologize for being so rude the other day. I was stressed and tired, and you were nothing but nice to me.”

“John?”

“yes?”

“Who told you you should be apologizing all the time? More smart remarks from this arse of a boyfriend?”, he raised an eyebrow.

“How’d you know he was an arse?”, John asked, fumbling with his pockets because his lighter was nowhere to be found.

“Well, he let you go”, Freddie said matter of factly, waving his hand and finding his own lighter to hand over to John. They walked in silence for a bit, John following Freddie’s lead. 

“So. What do you like doing when you’re not jumping into planes and letting unhinged drummers take over your apartment?”, Freddie asked, picking the conversation up where they had left it at the stall, making light fun at John’s appalled face when he had told him about Roger’s antics back in the day, drum destroying and all. 

John smiled and leaned against a lamp post while they were waiting to cross the street. “Honestly, just hanging with Maggie and Cassie”, he shrugged.

“Oh”, the shift in Freddie’s posture was almost unnoticeable, but John had to bite the inside of his cheeks to keep his own smile from spreading.

“Yeah. They are the most lovely, entertaining and charming young women I know.”

“Okay”

“They are 4 and 6”, John said with the same deadpan tone.

Freddie smiled widely as John took out his phone to proudly show him a picture from last summer, in Coney Island. 

“This was in July. It was Anna’s favorite place in the whole city, and without knowing Cassie demanded we went there for her birthday. You wouldn’t believe that girl if you met her, I’m telling you”, he chuckled fondly. 

“You know you do this very sweet thing of squinting your eyes when you talk about people you love?”

John blushed and looked down, putting his phone away. Freddie seemed to speak candidly about whatever crossed his mind, but coming from him John found he didn’t mind being put on the spot. Maybe a little. Even if he found himself constantly looking sideways and lost for words, which didn’t happen often.

“Oh! Look, a fortune-teller fish, I love this!” Freddie stopped by a window and tugged at John’s sleeve. “We need to get one. Two, actually”

“Come on, you must be joking”, John said, trying to drag him forward.

“I’m most certainly not. We need to get them John, please darling. How else would we know how our future will turn out?”

“I don’t even know what I’ll do tomorrow and I doubt a fish can tell me. No, wait, I do. I’ll stay as long as I have to on the phone and make sure I get my bags. I can’t keep borrowing Roger’s clothes”

“yes, I’m sure those were never cleaned”

“Reassuring, thanks”, John smirked.

“And what best than a cellophane fish to tell you if your stern call to the airline will go great?”

John figured even if they spent an hour arguing, there was no way to change Freddie’s mind.

They came out of the store with two little plastic bags and Freddie scrambled to open his. He placed the little red plastic piece on his open palm, and it curled up entirely on itself. 

Freddie laughed and tossed it over a trash can. “Tell me something I don’t know next time, dear” he laughed.

John played with the little bag and rolled his eyes in faked annoyance when Freddie took it from him eagerly and opened it up.

“Place it on your hand, come on!!”

John took the red fish and inspected it closely. It looked pretty similar to the candy he got in Ikea for the girls and sneaked fed to them without Brian’s knowing when they were staying over. This was slimmer and paper-thin. 2 pounds on a cut out piece of plastic.

He placed it on his hand and waited. A beat. Nothing. He looked at Freddie, who had his lips pursed together. John turned the wrapper and read out loud: “ _Motionless. Dead one_ ”

There was a moment of silence and then the two erupted in laughter.

“Well, this is great. Means tomorrow will be much more of a surprise for you” Freddie smiled. “I love not knowing what’s ahead, actually”

“Remind me of that next time you make us toss money down the drain”

Freddie’s smile remained casual but John caught a glimpse of his own reflection in a shop window, his face contorted into a grimace. “Next time”. He didn’t need a fortune teller fish predicting he was going to run his mouth again. 

\---------

“Oh, crap. I’m not drinking again for the rest of my time here”. The room around him spun. His mouth tasted bitter and his voice was so hoarse he could have sworn he had gone to a stadium show. Maybe he had. Roger didn’t remember much from the night before.

“I don’t think there’s enough alcohol left in all of New York for you to drink”, Brian greeted him.

Roger turned down the coffee, the smell simply putting him off. He tried to remember what had lead them here, and took notice of the fact that he was still wearing the same clothes, only his shirt was completely opened. A song was stuck in his head like an earworm, something he really hated. 

“Did I sing Last Christmas and The Beatles last night on the way here?” Roger asked, dreading the answer.

“‘Oh Darling’. Pretty impressively, I might add” Brian chuckled. “I don’t think I ever heard anyone hit such high notes. Then you lost focus with ordering a falafel at a food truck.”

“Did I even offer to buy you one?”

“You did, but I’m afraid the guy would sell you none with you refusing to pay in anything other than pounds”. Brian was surprisingly still smiling, apparently finding the whole situation hilarious. Roger couldn’t look at him. It had only taken a second encounter for him to completely make an arse of himself. 

“So I guess, after my little serenade, we… Did we?” Roger turned around to get some water, and to not face Brian while waiting for an answer. 

“We didn’t”, Roger heard, and turned around in surprise. Maybe too fast because the spinning increased. 

“Why?”

Brian smiled and moved his hand where Roger’s was resting in the counter, but seemed to catch himself before touching him. “I wanted to make sure you were fine and you kind of crashed on the couch. Call me old fashioned, but I don't sleep with guys that are unconscious”, he laughed.

“Ughhhh” Roger covered his face with his hands. “Why did you stay?”

“You asked me to” Brian simply said.

Roger wanted the earth to open up and swallow him whole. It was incredibly embarrassing, but he could kind of see why he had asked that. Brian made him feel at ease, like he had known him for years. He remembered vaguely a conversation involving space and stars and just listening to Brian talk in the bar. For the life of him, Roger’s couldn’t remember what he said, but he still recalled how calming it had been. Even now, with all the embarrassment, the truth was he didn’t want him to leave yet. Things seemed uncomplicated in the morning light.

Brian’s phone rang again. He was a busy guy for sure, and Roger felt self-conscious for over-analyzing his kindness for more than what it probably was. 

He came back a few minutes after, and Roger busied himself with picking at John’s granite countertop, acting like he wasn’t peeking his head through the door, trying to hear who Brian was talking to.

“I think we should go out,” Brian said.

“What? Why?”

“Because I’m running out of reasons why we shouldn’t get to know each other, Roger. Don’t you agree?”, he crossed his arms.

Roger did agree, but he also knew that going out with Brian in daylight, to what most certainly sounded like a date was the last thing he needed to keep things uncomplicated. 

“I’ll wait until you shower and think about it. If you chose not to, I’ll just take the Fender and send it to you later. No hard feelings”. Brian wasn’t backtracking out of his offer, Roger noted. He was probably just reacting to Roger’s shocked face.

He blinked a few times and headed for the bathroom. Under the shower, Roger went over Brian’s words and tried to find out why he deemed them so odd. When he looked at his face in the steamed-up mirror, he realized the answer: it had been a while since someone had offered something to him without expecting anything in return, giving him complete freedom to refuse if he wanted to. It had been a while, but Roger remembered this was what not feeling like a second choice was like. 

He towel-dried his hair and heard soft humming and a melody coming from the music room. He bounded up in a warm scarf that belonged to Freddie and still smelled faintly of heady perfume and jasmine tea, and made his way across the hall. He saw Brian hunched over a guitar mindlessly picking at it, and run out of excuses to refuse this too. When he got up and run his thumb across the side of Roger’s lips to wipe off some toothpaste, uncomplicated seemed like an impossible choice.

\----

John followed Freddie inside a bar he had picked out. Usually, John favored some places over others, wanting a quiet place to have a conversation or a club loud enough to get him to dance all his worries away. Not that he had done that recently, it seemed like forever ago. If it were up to him they’d had stay at the stall, drinking tea, exchanging knowing looks when customers tried mismatched outfits, feeding biscuits to the cat. But this had been partially his idea and he didn’t mind following Freddie around, somehow sure he’d feel comfortable any place they went. It was a weird feeling, especially considering they hadn’t known each other for more than a week. Actually, he realized, he didn’t know much about Freddie except that he had known Roger for ages and he was fond of gifting clothes to strangers. John felt like an idiot who was over-romanticizing their time together. 

They sat down in a table next to the corner far from the bar, and while John was busy getting them two beers he saw Freddie saying hello to a few people, tilting his head back and laughing full-heartedly. A warming feeling came upon him, the same way he felt back at Roger’s house looking over his clothes. It was a mixture of admiring someone for being who they wanted to be, and striving to be that confident. 

“Friends of yours?” John asked when he joined him at the table.

“Kind of. We used to play together, a while back”

“I didn’t know you played too”, John frowned.

“Mostly piano. Some singing. They weren’t a right fit and we moved on”

“And Roger was?” He sensed Freddie was eager to change the subject but pressed on.

“In a way. I don’t really see us as a band, not a fully fleshed one at least. Feels weird to call it that. Not yet at least”. Freddie’s eyes were darting around, but there were no customers to tend to or cat to feed to get out of the conversation now, and John was determined to learn a bit more about him.

“Roger seemed very keen on you when he talked about you too. He certainly agrees on you two fitting together”, for some reason, that came off sounding in a more jealous tone than John had intended to.

“Every sense but romantically” Freddie looked straight into his eyes, and now John was ducking his head in embarrassment. The statement lingered in the air.

John cleared his throat, looking sideways. “So, do you have plans for this band?”

“Roger is sure we’ll have a good guitarist when he achieves cloning and can play it as well as his drums, so let’s say it’s in an indefinite hold until science catches up with his goals” Freddie laughed. And then he looked a John from the brim of his glass “and, well, the only decent bass player I know recently broke my best friend’s heart, so that position is open”

John smiled but regretted telling Freddie about his playing when they were walking there. “I’d be more than happy to cheer from backstage but that’s where I drew the line I guess”.

“I’m going to get you to play something for me, you know. I’m a very persuasive person, darling” Freddie said, and seductively arched his eyebrows, before erupting in a fit of laughter. Then it died down and in a voice barely audible above the noises from the people at the bar he added “you’re doing it again. You’re squinting your eyes”

John held his breath, preparing for something he didn’t particularly know, but holding off on exhaling. Freddie looked like he was going to say something else, and then John’s phone rang. He sat there frozen for a few seconds until he fumbled with getting it out of his pocket. He saw Brian’s name and excused himself to answer it, but even when he made it to the street all he heard was static. He tried calling him back but it went straight to voicemail. John cursed and run a hand through his hair, trying to not spin around in his head what had just happened at the bar. He stood outside for five minutes, trying to focus on the cold air on his face and striving to regain his composure.

“Saved by the bell”, Freddie smiled when John joined him again. He had already ordered dinner for them, and John gave him a reprimanding look. At this rate, he was never going to be able to pay him back, but John found he didn’t care much if it meant he’d had another chance of trying to crack into Freddie. What fascinated John about electronics was precisely that, how there were patterns and explanations and ways of figuring out the workings of things. Freddie arose the same interest in him as a seemingly impossible circuit to put together.

“What’s going on?” John asked when he saw Freddie was playing with the napkins in the table and glancing at the stage.

“I don’t know. They said something was wrong, maybe the setup. They were never good with that.”

Effectively, there was some chaos on stage and John recognized the stressed faces. One of the guys that had said hello to Freddie walked past them and John overheard him mention there were some issues with the equipment, and he excused himself. A few minutes later he came back and the band started playing. 

Freddie eyed him suspiciously as the guitars started sounding loud and powerful. “Did you have anything to do with that? Are you so tired of hearing me talk that you bribed them to play or something?”, he asked. 

“I work for a company that makes equipment,” John explained, “after a while, it gets easy predicting what can go wrong with them”.

“You’re a box full of surprises, John Deacon”, Freddie raised his glass at him and made a toast. John could catch himself smiling and squinting his eyes again, but he took a generous sip and enjoyed the music, too into it to pretend otherwise.

\---------------

Roger was screwed. No wonder he had begged Brian to stay over the other night, it was impossible to take his eyes off the tall curly-haired guy all day, but most of all it was captivating hearing him speak. Roger had learned that besides having a fondness for building and repairing guitars he was also a musician -retired amateur one, as Brian had pointedly highlighted. Roger had thought he had the upper hand by convincing him to softly sing by just batting his eyes, but Brian had caught him off guard and tricked him into harmonizing with him. They had walked alongside the Central Park lake, sat on a stool facing the icy waters and Brian had put his hand around Roger to keep him warm because the long sweater he had on wasn’t really built for the windy weather that eventually chased them down to a café. 

Brian had leaned over to wipe whipped cream from Roger’s nose in a domestic manner that recalled how he had swiped his hand over his mouth at the apartment, and then he resumed his talk about teaching at a local university as if it was something he did daily. Roger didn’t dwell too much on the gesture and continued listening to him talk about space and stars, just basking in a warm feeling that he was growing used to, a contradictory emotion to the harsh New York winter. 

“It’s like a thousand notes being played at the same time, the drumming is explosive at some points, I’m telling you, I went on about them for weeks and weeks until my articles got boring, I guess. It’s something like math rock, you’d enjoy it ”. Roger was so caught up in what he was telling Brian that he didn’t realize they had gotten to John’s place already. Brian must have not realized it either, following along to what Roger was saying with his mouth slightly open and his eyebrows furrowed. It was a wonderful change in spending time with someone who genuinely felt interested in Roger’s point of view and stories. He could count on Freddie, but he had to admit sometimes it got lonely not having someone to share his everyday life with. Brian asked all the right questions and even wasn’t afraid of contradicting Roger when he thought differently, and the afternoon had gone by so swiftly Roger felt he could still talk for hours. But he also knew he had a tendency of getting carried away.

Roger fumbled with his keys on the bottom of the stairs, and Brian put his hand on his waist, giving him a questioning look.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, I’m, you know, Brian I had a wonderful time, but I’m tired.”

Brian smiled, but after spending the day watching him grin, Roger could tell this one just didn’t carry as much truth in it. “You can just ask me to not come in, Roger, it’s okay”, he said.

“No, it’s not that,” Roger rushed to explain “I really am just tired and I want to be able to get up early tomorrow and get near the tree, it’s been mayhem every afternoon.” Brian crossed his arms and tilted his head, his smirk softening up a bit.

“Besides, I really can’t handle complicated right now”, Roger’s voice came out quieter. He toyed with the keys in his hands, spinning the disco-ball keychain John had put them in.

“And how would it complicate things?”, Brian asked him.

“Sex always complicates things.” Roger looked sideways, to the flowers by the sidewalk someone must have tossed. They remained as beautiful as if they were freshly cut, but now completely frozen, preserved for just one night. By tomorrow no one would glance at it twice. Roger sniffed and blamed it on the restless wind.

“If there’s something else going through your mind you can share it with me, you know?” Brian looked pensive and untangled his arms, but put his hands in his pockets instead of reaching for Roger again. “I’m really good at listening”

“You also said you have a habit of hurting people, and really, I just have a habit of getting hurt. I can’t risk that, I’m going away in two weeks”, Roger said.

“Right. And I’m just someone you had sex with once and slept with twice”, Brian was going for a somehow humorous tone, but there was hurt in his voice.

“See? It’s already messing with the both of us”, Roger puffed out some air and put his hands on the tall man’s shoulders, looking him straight in the eye. “Go home, Brian. I’ll call you, we’ll catch up some other day”

Brian kept his eyes on his, and Roger mentally counted from one to ten to not toss all of his rationality aside and ask him inside. “I promise this is not the last you’ll see of me. And I’ll have to wait for that guitar, you’re not getting rid of me that easily”, he added smiling fondly.

“I thought you were the one who wanted to get rid of me”, Brian pouted a little and Roger kissed him. It was quick and felt natural, even if it was the first time he had done it sober and in daylight. 

“Go home, Bri”. The nickname spilled out of him before he could stop it and Roger was glad Brian just nodded and walked away, before he could change his mind.

\-------

“I’m telling you, that drum solo was my idea!”, Freddie talked with his hands a lot, especially when he was excited or caught up in what he was saying. It was a habit John had grown fond of in a very short time.

“I thought you didn’t play drums”, John said.

“Yes, well I came up with the pump-pff-tum-tumm they were doing”

John stared at him, tried to remain serious but the concentrated face he was trying to hold soon gave way to a little smile. 

“Oh forget it, you’d had to be there. Tried to explain it to Roger as well but he gave me the same look like I’m just crazy”

John laughed and slightly pushed Freddie on the arm, “You said it”. 

It was well past midnight and as they moved away from the crowded streets, the roaring of pubs started to dull down. Freddie was the first to break the silence. 

“This has certainly been nice. I hadn’t seen them play in ages, and last time we were here Roger was mopping about God knows what Tim had done, and he ended up overshadowing the singer with his loud wallowing - I’m telling you, his high pitch comes to shine when he’s drunk and crying”, he laughed.

“You’re mean”, John said. He knew Freddie was teasing his friend in a loving way, but it hit too close to home.

“I’m not- all I’m saying, he picks the wrong guys”

“Well, we all do. We have that in common” John said bitterly “Can’t say the same about the crying”

“Excuse me?”, Freddie looked at him.

John took a deep breath. “I haven’t cried since I was 21.”

Freddie stared at him, but there was no judging in his expression, merely curiosity. John realized they had stopped walking.

“I had started college and a year after, my parents died. I didn’t even have a chance to come out to them and my boyfriend of the time, well, let’s just say he wasn’t the best support and grew tired of metaphorically holding my hand through it all. He left me a couple of months after and I used to cry all the way from my apartment to college, sober up for classes and focus in my studying crying some more. I graduated with honors a year before I was supposed to and haven’t cried ever since”. John rushed through the story, one he hadn’t told too many times, but enough to grow desensitized to it. 

Freddie blinked and frowned. “I’m sorry, you haven’t cried since you were 21?”

“You know, l try, but… Believe me” John Rin his hands through his arms repeatedly, and scrunched the wrapper of the fortune teller fish inside his pocket. “ _Motionless - Dead One_ ”, his mind supplied. “Uhm, can we talk about you some more, please?”

“Well, I cry all the time”, Freddie was quick to answer as they resume walking

“Okay, sure” John rolled his eyes.

“It’s true, I do. More than anyone you know, darling”

“You don’t have to be this nice”, John shook his head.

“A good song, a nice book, a viral video of cats, Roger’s idiotic soft mumbling when he sleeps - l weep”

“Shut up”, John laughed. They walked in silence some more and the knot in John’s throat started to let loose. 

“I didn’t mean that, you know”. Freddie’s voice was unusually quiet. 

“What? No take-backs, I’m texting Roger telling him you called his mumbling soft”, John teased him.

“I didn’t mean Roger was wrong about mopping over Tim.” Freddie explained. “I hate that he wastes his life away on that jerk, but we don’t choose who we suffer for.”

“You seem to have it under control”, John smirked. 

“Well, trust me, John, I don’t. I just got too good at pretending.” Freddie looked to the ground and John recognized something in his face, something similar to the moment when he asked him to stay in London the first day they met. 

They soon got to Roger’s apartment and John didn’t want to burst the bubble they had been wrapped in since leaving the bar. He bit his bottom lip, but Freddie beat him to it and slipped back to his usual upbeat energy.

“I’d love to stick around, but I got a feisty creature awaiting his food at the stall”

“You’re going all the way back there?”, John asked. 

“Yes, I think I want to walk a little. Helps me clear my mind”, Freddie smiled but he looked absorbed. “Tonight was wonderful, thank you. I’m glad you came by today” He blushed a bit and nodded to John, walking away. 

“Freddie?”, he called out.

Freddie turned around, locking eyes with. There was something hanging on John’s lips, but he couldn’t manage to get himself to say it.

“Would you pull aside the satin shirt for me?”, he went for instead. 

“Already did, darling.” Freddie winked. “Already did” 

\-----

Roger spent the day among the busiest parts of the city, and he hated to say Freddie was right about the crowded claustrophobic feeling of Times Square and the long queue he had to make to go on top the Empire State Building, only for his hat to get whisked away by the wind. His feet ached from walking the streets built on top of rocks, and there was a dull feeling in his head, probably presaging a cold. He loved it here nonetheless. He made a funny face to a dog dressed in an outfit that probably cost more than he made in a year, and even snapped a few photos at wild displays from the store windows in Fifth Avenue to steal for Kensington. 

He decided to walk to Bryant Park. He had already been there the day before during the morning, trying to get his thoughts in order about all that had happened to him in the last week. He had sat in one of the green chairs and browsed Tim’s draft. “Was he always using such basic metaphors?” Roger thought to himself. Man, he used to be whipped. He usually worshipped every word that came out of Tim’s mouth and the rose-colored glasses were tilting a bit now. Still, he missed him, and Roger felt awful for feeling that way when his ex hadn’t even checked on him again.

There was something about that park, Roger thought now as he saw it in all of its late-afternoon glory. It was tucked away between the mayhem of cars and loud horns, big buildings, and bright lights. Anchored by the library’s lions, just a little place of green. Or actually, of ice now. The skating rink was not as big as he had expected, and growing up in the south of England meant he wasn’t the best in his skates, so he just stood by and admired the tree. Every Christmas Tree in the city stroke him as pretty alike, if he was being honest, but Roger liked to look around to the families gathered there, the hopeful ones that asked for a wish upon the big star on top of it. He spent a moment staring at it and then looked away, not wanting or daring to wish. He walked passed the frozen fountain, faced the skating rink once again, feeling content enough to keep looking at the crowd there, at friends laughing as they tumbled in the icy floor, at old couples taking photos, at little kids’ laughing, at…

“Brian?”

Roger couldn’t help but smile to himself, turning his head to glare at the star on the tree and mumbled “you cheeky bastard…”. He locked eyes with Brian who looked surprised to see him there. He looked terrified but Roger beamed, realizing how much he had missed him in two days, and approached him. Brian clumsily transferred the two chocolate cups he was holding to one hand. He looked uncomfortable, and maybe a little stressed. He had mentioned before how the Holidays usually stressed him. 

“Hey” Roger greeted him.

“Hey yourself. I thought you said you were going to see the big tree!” He sounded agitated. 

“Yeah, I meant this tree,” Roger pointed “Freddie wanted pictures.”

“Oh, I was sure you had mentioned Rockefeller Center” Brian rushed to said.

“Well, I’m sorry I changed my plans Bri” Roger forced a laugh but felt like he was being reprimanded for something. And then it hit him. Brian was being polite, but was just trying to make quick conversation.

“Oh, crap. You’re not on your own, aren’t you?”. Roger wanted to die. He wanted to slip on the ice and hit his head. Of course, Brian could go on a date with whomever he wanted, he was a handsome guy who had only met Roger six days ago, it would be stupid to expect him to walk around New York in a daze like himself.

Brian sighed. “No, I’m not”

Roger could feel a sadness punch him in the gut, and he wanted to make an excuse and run all the way east to John’s apartment, but then there was a little girl tugging at Brian’s trousers and Roger stood frozen in place.

“Dad, my chocolate? You promised! It’s going to get cold”. She might have been the spitting image of Brian, except her curls were a bit looser and her eyes green. A slighter older girl trailed behind her, her freckles poking through her scarf and hat. “Sorry Dad, I told Cassie not to run”.

Roger took in the image in front of him, and if he wasn’t so dumbstruck he would have found the matching sweaters the three of them were wearing cute. The only thing he could manage to do was mouth so that only Brian could see him, “DAD?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for sticking around and continuing reading this story! I hope you enjoyed it, and if you want to let me know what you think here or over at tumblr / meddows-taylor ♥


	3. You and I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everybody! I hope you had a great Christmas and an amazing beginning of the New Year. I was quite busy during the holiday season, and the little time I had went into writing my three stories for Maylor week, so I’m terribly sorry I couldn’t update sooner. Guess this is going to be a seasonal fic well into January, and that you don’t mind that.
> 
> This is definitely a sweet chapter, but there are some snippets of sadness, more importantly, some mentions of death and anxiety/panic attacks. I want to assure you this remains a rotting teeth fluff story, but these parts were important for the plot so I wanted to give you a little heads up.
> 
> thank you again to every single one of you that has left kudos and commented, you make my day, my week, my month with your feedback and I’m enjoying writing this so much because of you. Hope you like it!

Roger felt all the people around him seemingly crashing down on him. He hadn’t really paid too much notice of how crowded New York was until that very moment, the dozen passerby's around him now feeling too close for comfort, leaving him there, just standing in the middle of the park, unable to move.

The girls were precious, wrapped up in scarves and their noses pink from the cold. Their black hair poked from beneath their matching hats and there wasn’t a single care in their faces, just blissfully lost in the Christmas spirit around them. All they seemed eager for was getting Brian’s attention to retrieve their hot chocolates, but their father stood just as frozen in place as Roger, an unreadable expression on his face, only traces of worry and embarrassment present. 

“Hello,” the oldest one waved. Then she extended a little hand and offered Roger a smile “I’m Maggie, very nice to meet you”. The youngest one hid behind her sister a little but smiled a bit for him as well. Damn. Brian had even raised them well and with impeccable manners.

“Very nice to meet you, Maggie”, Roger smiled back, clumsily taking her little hand on his own. There was genuine warmth in his eyes, but it quickly shifted when he looked over at Brian again. The tall man opened his mouth to say something, but one of the little girls tugged at his trousers again. 

“Dad, my chocolate?”, the youngest one barely whispered. 

“Right, right, sorry honey”, Brian stammered, handing her one of the cups and her sister the other. Now that she was happily sipping her chocolate, she turned her green eyes to Roger and beamed for him. “I’m Cassie, hello”

“Hello, Cassie”, Roger smiled back. He didn’t have any experience with kids, and all of his memories were only of when Claire and he had been little rascals running around. If his recollection was accurate, neither one of them was as charming upon meeting new people.

“Dad, can we sit by the rink, pleeeease?” Cassie battered her eyelashes at Brian. It was easy for Roger to see that it was impossible to say no to such an adorable sight. Brian furrowed his brow, and even if Roger was extremely confused by what he was experiencing, some part of him melted upon seeing Brian put his hands on his hips and take a quick glance at the chairs next to the skating rink, clearly calculating the risks.

“I’ll look after her, daddy, don’t worry,” the oldest one said, and Brian nodded.

“We’ll be right behind you”, he told them, and off the two of them went grinning.

“Will we?”, Roger asked him, one of his eyebrows raised and fighting to keep the anger off his tone, at least until the girls were further along.

“Please sit with me and let me talk to you”, Brian pleaded, and Roger sighed, realizing his eyes softened the same way his daughter’s had done, the same cute glisten to them while trying to get his way. 

The girls were only a few steps ahead of them, so Roger put his hands in his pockets and lowered his voice, keeping his eyes straight forward. 

“Are you married?” He asked abruptly

“No” Brian shook his head

“Okay,” Roger would lie if he denied he was a little relieved. “D-I-V-O-R-C-E-D?” He spelled, waving his hand at the girls who had turned for a moment and were settling on two chairs a few feet apart from them.

Brian waved back at them as well, a sad smile on his face as he looked over his girls. “W-I-D-O-W-E-R”, he replied.

Roger thought a few minutes ago all the air had been knocked off his body. Now, he realized, he truly couldn’t breathe. He looked over at Brian who was staring fixedly ahead, his eyes only slightly downcast. Roger thought of his own father, of growing up almost without him around, of his mom struggling to raise two children pretty much on her own. He wanted to ask a million questions, struggled to make sense of this news and the days he had spent with Brian, but his mind refused to cooperate.

“Wait a minute,” he turned to the curly-haired man, shifting his gaze between him and one of the girls “you named your daughter Maggie May?”

There was a fraction of a second of maintained tension and silence, and then Brian was chuckling, some of the color that had been drained off him returning to his cheeks. 

“Margaret, actually. But yes, Anna, my wife, she was extremely permissive to my whims.”

Roger shook his head grinning a little as well, not being able to contain himself. “And Cassie?”

“Cassiopeia,” Brian said. Then he softly put his hand beneath Roger’s chin and tilted his face, making him look above. “It’s a constellation. You can kind of see it from here”. Roger squinted his eyes, but his gaze dropped and soon he was staring right into Brian, seeing some of that sadness back in the hazel.

“I’m just trying to figure out why you didn't tell me about them”

Brian sighed, dropping his hand from Roger’s face. “Because l just don't usually tell people I meet about them”

“Okay, but you were the one who wanted to get lunch, remember? The one who was so eager to get to know each other?”, Roger tried to keep the hurt off his voice, but he reckoned he was making a poor job of it.

“When you put it like that it sounds terrible. I have no defense, I know”. Brian rubbed his hands together, and Roger could feel the cold of the sunset too. He waited until Brian managed to speak again. “The thing is, until l get to know someone really well, and that usually doesn’t even happen, it’s easier for me to be a normal, single guy. Because it's way too complicated to be who l really am.”

Roger nodded. He could see his point, but it didn’t mean it hurt any less.

“When Anna died, I felt like my world was crashing down on me. Cassie was two and Maggie had only just turned four. I knew no-one here but John, and I honestly don’t know how we would have survived without him coming over when I felt like dying myself as well, when I needed to take the train a couple of stations only to cry in peace so they wouldn’t see me breaking down”

“Time goes on and so does life, but I’m slowly still learning how to balance every aspect of it. I’m a full-time dad. I’m a working parent. I’m a mother and a father. I’m a guy who reads parenting books and cookbooks before l go to sleep. l spend my weekends buying tutus. I’m learning to sew, believe it or not” he laughed a little, a few tears spilling from his eyes that he quickly wiped away. Roger wanted to grab his hand and hug him, relieve some of the pain, but for the benefit of making it easier for Brian, he just laughed along, letting him continue speaking. 

“I’m on some kind of constant overload and it helps to compartmentalize my life. Just until l figure this out. This past week, the girls were with their aunt - Anna’s sister who lives up West and comes by sometimes. And when they're gone, l get to be somebody who doesn't have hot chocolate spilled on his jeans and gives in to wearing matching Christmas sweaters. l have no idea how to date and be this.”

Roger needed to look away from him because he had to process all that Brian was saying. He felt he ought to be angry at him, but some of the hurt began to fade away. 

“And l suppose,” Brian trailed on, his voice a bit softer now “there is also the possibility that I’m afraid of what another person might do to who we are, and how we get from one day to the next.”

Roger remembered how hard it had been to move away from Cornwall, how he had felt like the most awful son and brother for leaving behind his sister and mother, how he had taken the role of protecting them no matter what, and how guarded he had been of anybody disturbing the peace in the little house in Truro that felt like a fort.

“l guess since l am leaving in ten days, l sort of get you not telling me,” he said. Then, to not let Brian entirely off the hook, he added: “Sort of”

“They haven’t met any man or woman I’ve dated in over two years, Roger” Brian said. “And I thought it would be hard to introduce them to someone they may never see again”

“Right. Because I’m just someone you had sex with once and slept with twice”, Roger retorted, smirking. He could notice the old mechanisms he used to fall into to play off his hurt coming back. 

“l thought _l_ was just someone you had sex with once and slept with twice” Brian smiled at him. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I guess I was also afraid of showing you this other side of me because then you would become a reality beyond being this gorgeous funny guy who crashed in John’s place and seemed out of this world” 

Roger’s heart did a little jump, and he concealed the gasp that left his mouth with a sudden cough. “Oh, man. l think we just went way past complicated.”

——————

John had spent the whole night awake. Not shuffling through emails or tossing and turning in bed as he usually did back in New York, but doing something he hadn’t done in a while. He had completely taken over Roger’s music space and made good use of all the instruments he had around. He usually struggled with lyrics, favoring coming up with a riff or melody and only then working out the hardest part, the words to go along with them.

Now it had all sort of come together as a whole, scribbling in a piece of paper without being able to stop himself, words spilling out of him.

“ _We'll go walking in the moonlight, Laughter ringing in the darkness_ ”

The music he had come up with was certainly more upbeat than he thought he could muster up a week ago, and it wasn’t a breakup song or even a heartbreak one. It was a hopeful something, mirroring how he had felt the last few days.

He had never been one to hold back his thoughts, but he wasn’t comfortable with saying too much when a little was all that sufficed. Music and songs were his area to shine, so to speak, and even in the darkest times in his life he had always challenged that with creativity. He had had trouble explaining to Brian, who longed for Britain still when they had met in New York, how much he had needed to get out of there and fly away someplace where he wasn’t John the orphan, John who had recently got dumped, John who had very few friends. One night, three months into their friendship, John had played “Spread Your Wings” for him, all he needed to say summed up there. Brian, also fond of speaking his mind and his heart through his songs, had hugged him very close and never once tried to pry into John’s past again. 

That had been a long time ago, and whereas his friend was prone to spill his heart and soul into creating music still now, John was comfortable staying in the sidelines, only offering input and suggestions. Suggestions that usually went down the drain, most of them being “Brian, you don’t need a 5 minute solo in this, it’s only a kindergarten recital”.

Now here he stood, sleep-deprived but buzzing with excitement, the words seeming a bit foreign to him but true to his heart.

“ _People drinking for days gone by, time don't mean a thing when you're by my side. Please stay awhile_ ”

He hadn’t really known what he had come looking for in London, but with every passing day it had begun to feel more like home than New York had in a while. He felt as if he had been there for weeks, even months, having grown accustomed to the noises Roger’s apartment made and the smells that mixed in the most particular way in the streets, already caught up with the pace of the busy city. He felt as if he was in his own little bubble, and that nothing, not even his neurosis could boycott it.

“Just you and I…” he sang over the track he had laid down, cringing a little listening to his voice. He had never been a singer, and only two little someones back at home thought he was good at it. 

There, staring at him in his handwriting was everything he had tried to say a few hours ago, everything that he had to stop himself from babbling to Freddie. He felt like he was fifteen again, writing letters he would never send.

The sun was not out yet because it was winter, and the silence of the in-between hours of not quite night and not quite morning filled his chest with peacefulness. He was a bit proud of what he had accomplished and the warmth of the rattling heater suddenly made his body go limp and his eyelids heavy. He had intended to crash in bed only to rest his eyes for a little, but when he opened them again the bright rays of sunshine were peaking through the curtains. The growl of his stomach announced it was way past breakfast time, and while the prospect of spending more hours on the phone arguing with the airline people until they gave in sounded satisfactory, he felt the weight of months on end exhaustion washing down on him. There was an ache in his chest and he stared directly into the sun, thought of Charlie and his betrayal, of how alone he sometimes felt when everyone went home for the night and he stayed behind tweaking with the projects they were coming up with, scrolling through the brand’s social media accounts and smiling at photos of bands and musicians using their amps. He wrapped the blankets tighter around his frame, burying his face in the soft pillow. He kept staring into the light until the stinging and dryness began to burn his eyes. Still, not a single tear. 

In the light of day, his words reflected back to him from the paper, urging him to let go of all worries and find comfort where he felt most at ease. He turned around and dreamt of loud stage music, of fine clothes, Christmas trees, and red cellophane fish pouring down on him. Sunny and bright.

—————

John’s phone rang and he rushed out of the shower to pick it up.“So, are you ever coming back?”

“Brian!”, he beamed.

“Hello there, I thought you had forgotten about us”. His friend’s voice sounded crystal clear, but it was not the same as having him sipping tea across the table, and John pouted a bit against his will.

“Like I could. If I ever get my luggage back I’m going to have to pay extra for all the stuff I keep buying for the girls” John figured it was best not mention to Brian that most of it were pieces he had found at Freddie’s and lots and lots of English candy he felt his nieces ought to try. “How are they?”

“You know, great as usual. Missing their uncle John”

“My two perfect girls”, John smiled.

“Maggie is organizing our Christmas schedule by 15 minutes-unit time slots and says you’re the only one who would appreciate it. And Cassie is still mesmerized by all Nutcracker stuff, I’m going insane trying to track down presents for her”

“Like dolls?”, John knew enough about the little girl’s fleeting interests, something both he and Brian were pretty permissive about since her mother’s death, even if it meant changing her room wallpaper from dinosaurs to butterflies to the deep sea.

“Like the ballet performances blu-rays. And tutus. And slippers and records. She won’t take any kids stuff, only proper items”

“‘proper items’?”, John raised an eyebrow.

“Her sister’s words, of course”. John could picture Brian shaking his head, but laughed because Maggie’s vocabulary and poise were certainly inherited from her father, and he knew his friend secretly loved it.

“So ballet is the fixation of the month for the feisty Cassiopeia”

“It’s been going on for a while now, I think we have a ballerina in our hands”, Brian chuckled.

“There’s a great place that makes pendants near my place, and I think I saw a ballerina one. Well, Roger’s place actually. He’s the guy staying at my apartment, you should meet him”, John said.

“I, uhm, I have actually”

John heard a beeping in his mobile, looked at the screen and saw he had an incoming call from Roger. John had texted him earlier, eager to tell him about having fixed the shower head but secretly hoping he could poke around a little and ask questions about the running of the clothing stall.

“Bri, can you hold on for a bit? I really want to talk to you”. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed Brian, how the distance made him even miss the little squabbles they had all the time. 

“Hello”, John said.

“Hey mate. Thanks for fixing the leaking, that thing’s been bugging me since I moved”, Roger laughed. 

“My pleasure. I can’t hold still that much, I was a bit restless the other night and needed to find something to do.”

“It was driving you nuts as well, wasn’t it?”

“Absolutely”, John admitted. It was amazing how easy it was to talk to Roger, how quit-witted and charming he was. John would have given anything to be a fly on the wall and witness a conversation between him and Freddie. Freddie - right. He wanted to ask Roger about him.

“Can you hold for a second? I have my friend Brian on the other line” John asked. 

“Really?”, there was a shift in Roger’s voice.

“Yeah, he said you two met”, John said

“We did, yeah. When the girls were away” That was weird. Brian hardly told strangers about Maggie and Cassie. “Can you ask him how he’s doing?”, Roger’s voice definitely went up a few octaves now.

“Sure”, John said, finding the whole thing extremely odd.

“Hey. That was Roger”, John told Brian, listening close to the silence on the other end of the line.

“Oh,” Brian said, and John pressed his phone even closer to his ear. “How is he?”

“He just asked me the same thing about you”, John replied suspiciously. 

“And what did you tell him, Deaky?”

“I said I’d ask you.” John waited and picked up a photo of Roger with Freddie that was framed and on the night table. He was gorgeous, but not exactly Brian’s type. “I don’t know, _how are you_ , Brian?” 

“I’m good, I’m good” John rolled his eyes. 

“Do you want me to ask him how he is?”, John felt like they all were 13 years old.

“Yes, please”. John tapped at his screen quickly.

“Roger, Brian wants to know how you are”

“Can you tell him I’m fine and I’m just walking down Washington Square Park, checking out that place he told me that sells great used-records?”

“Sure”, John chanted sweetly. He got up from the bed and headed for the kitchen.

“I can not believe you slept with the guy staying at my apartment, Brian!!”

“HE TOLD YOU THAT?!”

“Oh my God”, John put his hand over his mouth

“OH MY GOD” he heard Roger form the other side. 

“Roger, I’m so sorry, I thought I was talking to Brian. Can you hold please?”

John was fumbling with his fingers, repeatedly hitting his forehead with his free hand.

“I can’t believe you had sex with Roger! The one thing he asked me was, '' _Are there any men in Manhattan?_ ’' and l assured him that there were not. Then you meet him and immediately get into his pants!”

John heard a sigh and a resigned chuckle from the other side “Still me, mate”

John closed his eyes and if the phone wasn’t brand new he would have found extreme pleasure in throwing it over the window.

“Fuck, l must have lost Brian. Roger, l am so sorry. Can I call you back?”

“Sure”. The line hadn’t gone silent yet when another beep came through and John was ready to scream in frustration.

“yes, Hello” he answered forcibly.

“Hi. It’s Freddie.” He waited two seconds and lowered his voice “Am I in trouble?” His tone was humorous and light like it usually was. Immediately John felt the tension in his shoulders begin to fade away.

“No, you’re not. I just, -stressful call”

“Airline people?” Freddie asked.

“Sure”

“Well, then my call can’t come at a better time. I have your shirt ready and I could use a hand in the stall, if you want to come by” Freddie sounded almost bashful, a little shy about asking John this.

“You better set the kettle then”, John smiled and grabbed his coat.

\-----------------

By the time John got to the stall, there were already some customers, and the place looked as busy as he had ever seen it in. Freddie was scrambling to answer questions and he looked kind of gloomy and stressed. His eyes somehow lit up when he saw John walk in, silently smiled at him and nodded towards the back, where there were already two cups of tea brewing and Romeo was curled next to a box of fabric. John gently patted his head, and he moved around the crowded space with ease. It amazed him how comfortable he felt there, especially since it usually took a while for John to warm up to a place and to someone. 

He peeked his head through the curtains, but Freddie was still busy, and his tea would irremediably go cold. John added a bit of sugar to his own cup, listening to Freddie point out the benefits of owning a patchwork jacket and he found himself humming, occasionally mumbling. 

“ _Shadows flickering my heart's jittering, just you and I_ ”

He was startled by Freddie suddenly making his way into his space. 

“Are you blushing?” He asked with a playful tone

“what? No”. John blushed even more

“did I hear singing?”, Freddie arched a perfect eyebrow.

“Absolutely not”

Freddie smiled and rolled his eyes. “Saved by the hustle once more”, he smirked. “Though I love seeing your face, I wasn’t lying when I said I needed a hand, so, uhh - do you mind?”

John stared at him and set his tea aside, trying to not seem as nervous as he felt.

“no, no, of course, coming right up”

John could tell why Freddie needed help. The little stall had suddenly become filled with people, clearly rushing to buy their last-minute Christmas gifts. 

John tended to two young girls who were trying a multitude of dresses for a holiday party and were shyly counting their money to see which one they could afford. They both opted for the plainest options, but John bagged the fancy sequined ones anyway, covering the difference out of his own pocket. He helped an older woman decide on gifts for her grandchildren, and when she left she squished John’s cheeks and called him a wonderful, helpful lad. John was scarlet red and from the other side of the room he saw Freddie covering his mouth with his hand, laughing at the sight. 

By now the stall was almost empty, and John focused on staring at Freddie, at the sharp features of his face and at how his hands moved delicately while feeling the fabric he was showing to the woman he was assisting. John felt his breath get a tad more agitated, and was sure Freddie could feel his eyes following his every move. 

“Excuse me, could I get some help?” John was brought out of his daze and prepared to apologize to the customer in front of him. He looked like a wealthy man, in a suit and a clean haircut, not more than five years older than John himself, and something in his tone denoted he was in a rush and he couldn’t be bothered by politeness. John quickly went into business mode himself as well.

“Absolutely, my pleasure. What are you looking for today?”

“I need a gift. Two gifts, actually. I need something fun, sexy and expensive-looking,” he glanced around the store, as if not sure he may find that in that place, and John did not appreciate the look of disdain that crossed his face, but remained smiling professionally “and then I need, well, something plain and pretty boring, I guess”

John stood in place, tried to remember how Freddie had acted and helped customers who only gave vague descriptions of what they were looking for.

The man must have realized John needed a bit more information, so he added on. “I have kind of a problem, you see. Well, it’s usually not a problem, but it turns into one at this time of the year. Two ladies”, he smirked, as if trying to get John to reciprocate with shared camaraderie. John’s smile only faltered a bit, the corner of his eyes twitching.

“I bet you could figure out who the boring stuff is for” John turned around and headed for the dresses hanger, trying to do anything to not get the jerk to see his expression of anger, how his lips tightened. He deliberately went for the most expensive dress in the whole store. If whoever this idiot man’s wife was had to suffer all of this, John was at least going to make sure she got a spectacular outfit.

John moved the hangers with force, and from the corner of his eyes he could see that Freddie was keeping a careful eye on him. He almost threw the velvet dress into the man’s hands.

“Would this work?” John asked briskly, all pretense of politeness pretty much gone. The man looked at it, turned his nose a bit and said “yes, I suppose it will”

“Now, you mentioned another piece?” John wanted the interaction to be over as soon as it could, finding more difficulty breathing with every passing second.

“oh yes”, the man grinned and even licked his lips. John had to look away because he felt his inside turning, and he supposed throwing up in Freddie’s stall was not going to exactly help his business.

“I want a skimpy something, lots of lace, lots of satin, and as little actual fabric as you got”. John moved past him, went to the sales rack and rummaged through the clothes there. By now he was certain Freddie was following his every move, and on top of feeling terrible, he now felt guilty from potentially harming the store’s reputation of good service.

He managed to find a little black dress that John was sure used to be a nightgown that was repurposed by Freddie, and walked straight to the register. “Just take his money and he’ll be gone”, he told himself.

“You know, it’s such a pity my wife used to fit in this as well”, the man casually said, feeling the shiny material. “Can’t blame a man for looking for options then, can you? Always so distant, always so cold”

“Maybe if you didn’t take up a mistress she wouldn’t be cold and distant”, John mumbled.

“Excuse me?” The man raised his voice “I didn’t come here to be judged. If I wanted that I would have shopped at somewhere fancier’s than a glorified thrift shop”

That was it. John grabbed the bag from his hands and slammed his hand on the table with the money he had not yet put in the register. 

“Then I suggest you take your business and your scheming ways elsewhere” John raised his voice. He was so short of breath it was almost as if he was panting, and he felt cold sweat on his forehead. 

In a matter of seconds, both Freddie and Romeo were by his side, the first one taking a look at the customer and saying, in a very calmed but assertive voice “I believe my friend is right, you should leave.” The man was still standing in front of them and opened his mouth before Freddie cut him off again “-Now. We may be a glorified thrift shop but we don’t tend to scum like you”

The man walked away, not before yelling at them about how mediocre and second-rate the place was.

John took two breaths but struggled to get the air he was inhaling well past his throat. The room around him begun to spin, and now the sweat was on his face and on his hands, which he didn’t feel anymore. Before he could focus his eyes on the worried look in Freddie’s face, he felt his legs give in and braced for the sharp pain that was surely going to come from hitting his head on the ground. Only it didn’t come, as the moment he fainted he was held by Freddie instead.

—————

Roger was back at John’s place, trying not to think about the phone call. He felt mortified but the urge to see Brian was even stronger than his embarrassment. He had last seen him in the park, after making sure to wave goodbye to the girls who were mesmerized by the people skating there.

He had wanted to talk to Brian, and if it had been a few days ago he surely would have given him a call and ask him to come by without analyzing it much. But he caught himself before doing it a couple of times, still needing to process all the shocking information.

Tim had finally checked in, sending him the equivalent of the “you up?” message, a code they had established after a few years of hidden calls. “ _Saw this and thought of you, Taylor._ ” He had attached the usual link to a new release or music article. Then, almost as if by tradition- “ _how are you spending the night?_ ”

Roger had typed out a response, a few of them actually, some raging from “give my best to your wife-to-be” to long-winded questions about what he had meant to him, to meaningless out of reflex sexy one-liners. He had deleted all of them and for the first time in ages, left his message on read. If he felt guilty he could blame it on the time difference, but the truth was, he really wasn’t. 

His mind was still too full of rambling thoughts, and not even getting confused for a local new yorker when an old lady asked him for directions cheered him up. His phone itched in his hands, but he had to reason with himself that things had gotten more complex and he couldn’t just ask Brian out to dinner - even if he still owed him a proper date and Roger desperately wanted to make that a reality. He had shamefully walked by the places Brian had mentioned, even frequented the cafe shop they had gone to, all in hopes of maybe seeing him again. Still, as fate would have it, no sign of the tall curly-haired man. 

He needed to call Freddie as well and ask for his advice, but something stopped him. Something that told him not to bother his friend with the ups and downs of his love life. He would probably tell Roger the same thing Brian had alluded to: If he was going to fly back home in such a short time, was it really worth it getting involved? On the other hand, Freddie might have said: “screw it darling, fucking do it”. You never knew with him. Remembering his friend made him think of one of the places Freddie wanted to go to New York, and longed for at least feeling that connection. He grabbed his metro card and hopped on the train to head to Jefferson Market Garden. 

Once he got there he was blown away by the number of flowers and plants that filled the place and that stubbornly peeked through the remains of the snow. It was small, a little tucked away hidden gem in the West Side, and how on Earth had Freddie discovered it all the way from London, Roger might never know.

He grinned at the old ladies sitting up front who looked freezing cold and dropped a few bucks on the donations bin they were holding. He took a turn and sat on one of the benches, admiring the reds and violet of the flowers. 

He answered a few texts on his phone, and his hand almost went to open Tim’s file again, at least to point out a few questionable word phrasings he had used.

“Hello”, a smiling girl stood in front of him, and it took all but five seconds for Roger to place the hazel eyes. It would have been impossible to forget them, they were the same as her dad’s.

“Hi”, Roger said, looking around. There was a slim chance the girl was there with someone else, but lo and behold, soon her younger sister came walking by the path, followed along by their father.

“Fancy running into you here”, the oldest one said, and Roger could see Brian blushing behind her. Roger blinked a few times, trying to remember if Brian had mentioned correctly that she was, in fact, only six.

“Uhm, likewise”, Roger said, feeling self-conscious of his own vocabulary against hers. “Hello there yourself”, he said, smiling at Brian. Some part of him sent a silent thank you to Freddie for having led him here. Ever the romantic, Freddie Mercury. 

“Wasn’t this the place your friend Freddie wanted to see?” Brian asked, and Roger tilted his head, wondering if maybe Brian was doing the same as he was, just aimlessly walking around Manhattan hoping to run into Roger in his favorite places. Or maybe Roger was just letting all the hopes get to his head.

“Yes, it is”. Roger wanted to say a lot of things to Brian, but he held back. Perhaps it was a good thing the girls were there as a buffer. “I guess I’ll have to thank him”

Brian smiled, a knowing smile, one Roger had seen before, their first night together. “Heard he is spending a lot of time with John, might want to thank him on my part for that too”

Roger grinned and made a mental note to give Freddie some crap for hiding that too, feeling less guilty about keeping whatever it was that was going on between him and Brian from his friend. Not that there could ever be any true secrets between them for long.

Brian’s eldest, Maggie, as Roger vividly remembered, nudged her father in the ribs. 

“Dad…”

“Oh right, where are my manners?” Brian blushed. “We were just going to get ice-cream. Would you like to join us?”

Roger raised an eyebrow at him but looked at the eager adorable little faces. “Ice-cream? In the middle of winter?”

“The number of ice-cream eating in winter is actually increasing,” Maggie said, “and the average American eats more than 23 pounds in a year.”

Roger let out a little laugh, stared at Brian who sighed, shook his head and mouthed “Don’t ask”

“Well then, we can’t be messing with statistics, can’t we?” Roger said.

The beaming smiles of all three of the people in front of him made it worth the doubt he had about it being awkward, and as Roger got up Brian leaned close and whispered “Thank you”. Roger felt a bolt of electricity through his spine and mentally kicked his body, reminding himself of the girls there with them. 

They walked towards a little shop, and by the third block Cassie asked Brian to pick her up. He obliged and held her close to his chest, but teasingly said “Aren’t you getting a little old for this?”

“Nope,” she said. “When I’m a ballerina people will have to lift me up all the time”

“Exactly, Brian, it’s good practice,” Roger said matter of factly, and his heart felt like it was expanding when the little girl shared a knowing smile with him.

When they got to the shop they spent a good fifteen minutes sampling all the flavors, a move Roger proudly told the girls Freddie and he used to pull when they couldn’t afford ice-cream.

“Not that we have that many flavors in Britain”, he laughed.

“Dad, we need to go to London!” Maggie eyed her father. “You keep promising”. Roger was becoming her number one fan for how she shamelessly called out Brian on everything.

“We will, we will” Brian replied, focusing on the guy scooping them their orders.

“You keep saying that and yet we never do!” She told him again

“Maggie, I said we will someday” Brian answered with more force, and Roger looked up from where he was helping Cassie decide on sprinkles or chocolate chips for her toppings. “Besides, it’s not that easy, we’ll have to figure out when to go and where to stay”. Roger could tell he was buying out time, desperate to change the conversation.

“We can stay with Roger”, Cassie said as she kept frowning at the bowls of candy on the other side of the counter and staring in concentration.

Now Roger definitely looked up and his eyes locked with Brian, who looked like he wanted to just drown in the big bucket of vanilla.

There was a moment of tense silence and then Cassie turned her head and, as if it was the most casual thing to say, declared “I want to learn how to play drums”.

Brian squinted his eyes and smiled, rubbing the little girl’s hair, “So, no ballerina anymore then?”

“I’ll be a dancing drummer - you can do that, right?” She asked, turning to Roger.

He smiled, saw the relief in Brian’s face that the UK conversation had apparently been dropped and answered her. “Absolutely. We’ll just have to bring your drum kit upfront of the stage so you can perform your routine too.”

They sat in a table by the window, and Roger listened attentively as Maggie explained the difference between sorbet, frozen yogurt and ice-cream. She had a habit of spilling out trivia whenever there was silence, Roger noted, and kept an eye on her mindlessly folding napkins when her sister or her father were speaking. His chest ached a little when he remembered how he had used to tell his mom at the dinner table every little detail about his day at school, what they had learned at choir practice and exactly how the tide had changed. It was a routine he had picked up to distract her, especially as he had gotten older and he had noticed her red puffy eyes when she sat down with him and his sister. 

“What’s that?” Cassie asked, her face covered almost completely in chocolate ice-cream as Brian tried to wipe it off. She was pointing at Roger, more exactly at the opened spot above his shirt. 

“This is the Mercedes-Benz logo”. Roger pulled on his necklace. “It’s a car brand, one of my favorites, and my friend made a charm for me with it”

The little girl, who had spent most of the day grinning and laughing at what Roger said, suddenly looked down, burrowed her frown. “I don’t like cars”, she said, her voice shaking.

“Cassie…” Brian spoke softly.

“I don’t! They are stupid and I hate them!” She said and got up from the table storming off.

Her sister looked absorbed, and fixed her eyes on the plastic spoon she was holding in her hands. Brian stood up and looked at Roger, and for the first time, he saw true hurt in him. “I’m sorry, I, I’ll be right back”, he said, going after the girl.

Roger sat there in silence, almost afraid to move.

“She has trouble sometimes, letting go”, Maggie said, almost whispered. 

Roger wanted to ask, but this was not a conversation he ought to be having with a 6-year-old. He could sort of put two and two together, but focused on not doing any extra harm.

“You know, it’s good sometimes, letting it all out,” he told her. The girl stopped playing with the napkin on the table and stared at him with her big hazel eyes. 

“And what do you do then?”, she asked, biting her lip.

“I write in my diary. I listen to music that I like and I play my own.” Roger reasoned he better leave out the part about trashing a few gadgets out of rage here and there. “and I talk about it”

“I usually talk with my uncle John”, Maggie said. “He knows what it’s like”. There were tears in her eyes and she sniffed a little. Roger offered her the last bits of his ice-cream.

“Your uncle John is a great listener, you’re right,”. She swirled the strawberry ice-cream with her spoon before taking a scoop of it. “and you should talk with your dad as well, you know? He is stronger than you give him credit for and he loves you a lot”

“I know”, she said, and took another bite. “Thank you” she smiled at him. 

“Now, you were saying something about the first ice-cream shop opening in 1876?” Roger asked, leaning in and digging his spoon in the dessert that they were now sharing. 

Her eyes lit up and she smiled excitedly at him “Actually, in 1776, here in New York”

Roger nodded along and “ahh” and “ohh” in between sentences, but he realized he didn’t have to fake interest at all. He discovered he could stay in the little cozy shop talking with a 6-year-old prodigy and feel completely happy about it.

Brian returned a few minutes later with a still almost crying Cassie and they sat by them silently, paying close attention to Maggie’s story, which now was set in ancient Greece as she described the very first ice-cream ever made. 

Roger looked up laughing along as he made a joke that had both of the girls giggling strongly, but he had to quickly focus on the melting puddle of pink in the cup because there was a force moving him beyond about the intense way Brian was staring at him. Roger thought he had seen love in it, but he convinced himself it was impossible. Almost as impossible as feeling it himself. 

——————-

“John? John, darling, can you hear me?”. John heard a melodic voice bringing him back, tried to focus on the face hovering above him, and then felt something wet in his nose.

“Romeo, no, no licking! Leave him alone”

John’s stomach turned from squinting at the light. 

“John?” Freddie tried again “John, dear, you got to open your eyes”. 

When John blinked a couple of time his vision wasn’t blurry anymore and he could see Freddie worried and whisking the cat off him. John tried to stand up, but his head felt heavy and it ached.

“I’m so sorry”, he slurred.

“Nonsense. How are you feeling?” Freddie asked him, putting a hand behind his neck and helping him sit with his back against the cold tiles from the back room of the store, where John gathered he had dragged him. 

“Queasy”, John said.

“I think you had a panic attack” Freddie crouched next to him, moving his hand from his neck to his sweat-drenched forehead, where he moved John’s fringe aside. “Has this ever happened before?”

John thought of those months after his parents’ death, of the early stages of him moving to New York, of Anna’s accident and the sound of the girls crying and screaming when he had to give them the news. He closed his eyes and nodded, but the motion only made the urge to be sick more prominent. He took a deep breath and the nausea slowly subsided. 

“I’m sorry, I ruined the workday,” John said as he looked around and figured Freddie had closed the store. 

“Don’t even mention it. You think Roger never threw a fit and chased a customer away for less?” He chuckled, his hand still absentmindedly stroking the flyaway hairs out of John’s face. “I appreciate you snapping at someone calling the place, what was it? “A glorified thrift shop”?” 

John swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and looked into Freddie’s eyes as he leaned more against the wall. If anything, then at least he deserved John being honest after all the chaos he had managed to create.

“It wasn’t that”

“what’s that, dear?” Freddie seemed to not be listening to him.

“I said it wasn’t that which triggered this. I mean, I got really angry at that stupid comment, but I would have punched him, not fainted.” Now Freddie was looking at him with intensity, his hand still against John’s face. “It was all the talk about cheating. How callous and cruel he was about that, how easily someone can toss aside a person they are supposed to love and respect and even justify it”

Freddie’s gaze dropped, and John got choked up, but he spared a moment to linger on the fact that not a single tear rolled down his face.

“And then, I don’t know, I just thought of this woman, her suspicions, how she may feel if she found out? How she might even blame herself, bang things in anger and then go over every single moment from their relationship, trying to figure out what went wrong, where things took a turn, believing she is the one that’s at fault. And, I don’t know…” his voice had dropped and now Romeo was cuddling on his side and John picked him up, some of the affection of the cat snuggling to his chest giving him the courage to keep speaking, “I thought of her all alone, alone and wishing for a break, for life to give her the chance to see that not everyone is unreliable and a liar, how there’s still some love in the world”. He stroked Romeo’s head, who purred and yawned in his lap.

Freddie seemed to get lost looking at the image, his eyes finally settling once again on John. “So that’s what you’re doing here? You’re getting over someone?”

“Yes”, John smiled a little. “This is me in good shape”

Freddie’s expression changed, and John was reminded of how sad he had looked outside the apartment the night they had gone out. “l know it's hard to believe people when they say, ''l know how you feel.'' But l actually know how you feel. I know what it’s like to fall for the wrong people all the time, I know what it feels like blaming yourself for your bad choices” John’s head was still spinning, but he held his breath, afraid if he moved an inch Freddie might shut down again. “But you see, unlike you, I just stopped looking. It was easier, it didn’t hurt that much. It was always something, anything really, that made it impossible, so I just gave up.”

“And how do you know I kept on looking?”

Freddie gave him a sad smile, and John realized there were tears in his face “I just know it, and as much as you’d want to pretend otherwise, you are not as jaded by it all”

John wiped a single tear from Freddie’s cheek and kept his voice small “I wouldn’t be so sure about that”, he said, glancing at his damp fingers.

Freddie shook his head and laughed a little. “I told you I cry all the time. You really scared us there”

John smiled back at him, cradled the cat closer to his chest. “I’m sorry,” he said to Freddie. “hey, I’m sorry” he said to Romeo as well, as his pouring continued.

“Shall we close then and have some pasta?” Freddie got up and offered a hand to John.

John felt a knot in his throat, swallowed against it. Freddie had opened up a bit, but there were still questions the inquiring side of John wanted to ask, and so much more he wanted to say. 

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’m just going to head back” Freddie looked unsure, but John took advantage of this sudden bravado overpowering him. “Would you like to come over to Roger’s place tomorrow night?” He said, not sure if the shortage of breath was a remanent from his breakdown or from braving to ask this. “There’s maybe a song I’d like you to hear”

Freddie smiled doubtfully at him but grinned. “If only I knew fainting was what it would take for you to play something for me, I would have asked you to help me around sooner.”

John rolled his eyes, glad he could always count on Freddie defusing tension around them.

“I cannot wait” Freddie said, grabbing a bag from behind the counter and handing it to John, who didn’t need to look inside to figure what he was going to wear.

\------------------

“I cannot imagine anyone being more of a hit with my girls”, Brian smiled at Roger. Out of the girl’s insistence, they had gone to Brian’s apartment because Cassie was still quizzing Roger about the different styles of drums and how you went about hitting them. Roger was treated to her excitement when discovering something new, and he felt more than happy to share his lifelong passion with her. Maggie had asked a few questions about journalism in turn, and Roger had asked for Brian’s permission to send her links to some of his articles. Brian had beamed and said he was looking forward to reading them himself as well.

After the sugar rush was over both of them had fallen asleep on the couch, and Roger and Brian were having tea in the kitchen. Brian’s apartment was not too big but spacious, with a big bookshelf filled with books about space and rock and roll - and the ones he had mentioned about parenting and cooking-, a bunch of drawings framed and photos scattered around the place. On his way to the bathroom, Roger had stood and stared at one of Brian with the girls, Cassie merely a baby, with a beautiful woman. She was young and smiling at the camera, her long black hair coming just above her shoulders and her green eyes sparkling with happiness. Roger had trouble swallowing against the grief and had to splatter cold water in his face a few times before coming out again.

“They are truly amazing, Brian”, Roger smiled. “Sorry if I accidentally turned Cassie into a drummer”

Brian sipped his tea and raised his eyebrows at him “No, you’re not. You’re ecstatic you brought her over to the rhythm sections side. John will be proud”

“Well, I always say we need more girl drummers, that’s true”, Roger nodded. 

“I’m sorry about before” Brian leaned against the counter and set the mug aside, avoiding looking at him.

“You don’t have to be”, Roger assured him. “I just wish that didn’t ruin her afternoon”

“It happens from time to time. She has a strong fear of cars ever since…” Brian’s voice got choked up and he tried to find the words to continue. “They don’t let John talk about cars or drive either”

“So it was an accident?” Roger asked after Brian looked down and didn’t continue talking.

“Yes”. His voice was hoarse. “We had gone upstate to visit some friends and then - I don’t remember much of it. Just the noise and then darkness for a long time”

Roger felt his lip trembling and with a shaky hand took another sip of tea to calm down. 

“I was in the hospital for a month, I couldn’t even be with them”. Brian looked up, to try and keep the tears from spilling, but it was no use. Roger moved closer and hugged him, allowing Brian to fully sob now. 

“I was so happy, I had just convinced Anna to move back to England and we were going to tell the girls afterward, and I, I just - it should have been me, Roger. I was the one who didn’t want to be here”

Roger held him tighter until his breathing went back to normal, softly running a hand through his long hair. 

“Hey”, he said, pulling a little back and staring at Brian in the eyes “hey, look at me. It wasn’t your fault. It isn’t. You are here and you’re alive and you’re an excellent dad”

Brian ran his hands through his face and wiped away the last of his tears. “Sorry”

“You have to stop saying that”

Brian blinked a few times and exhaled, never leaning away from Roger’s arms. Then he inched his face closer to him and stopped as if asking Roger for permission. He stared back at him and closed the space between them, melting into the kiss. Each kiss with Brian was different, the passionate, endless ones they had shared on their first night together so unlike the tender one they had had outside John’s apartment, and now this one - it was filled with something else, something that Roger felt all through his body. He didn’t want to name it, but as soon as their lips touched again, Roger knew he was head over heels in love.

“I think I should go” Roger said. His head was still clouded from the haze he was in and the undeniable effect Brian had on him.

“Do you have to?” Brian asked softly, moving Roger’s hair from his face and cupping his jaw.

“It’s pretty late, and I really don’t think I should stay here, Bri”, Roger said, looking pointedly at the door that led to the living room.

“I don’t mean tonight - do you really have to go back?”

Roger felt his throat close again and caressed Brian’s arm. “I do”. Roger was at least glad Brian hadn’t asked him to stay for real, because he was not sure he would have been able to say no.

“I figured”, Brian smiled sadly. He moved away from Roger, drinking the remaining tea in his cup.

“You three have a nice Christmas Eve tomorrow, and we’ll talk after, okay?” Roger said. When Brian was still looking absorbed, Roger grabbed his hand. “Hey, Bri - we’ll see each other after, I promise. I have to bring Cassie my drumming sticks after all”

Brian smiled again “Do you travel with those around?”

“Of course, what kind of drummer would I be if I didn’t?” Roger grinned. “and you better get used to it, if you’re going to be the next Ginger Baker’s dad”

Brian walked him outside and on the stairs kissed him again, putting every emotion Roger also felt into that kiss. 

“Merry Christmas, Roger”

“Merry Christmas, Brian”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is! I feel the story is finally moving forward, and can’t wait to hear what you say about it. To paraphrase my boys from Queen, my heart has been hijacked by Maggie and Cassie. Oh, and the Mercedes-Benz logo necklace was totally inspired by Roger's own daughter who has one of those. I had it screenshotted on my phone and just loved it. 
> 
> As usual, if you want to, let me know what you think here or over at tumblr / meddows-taylor


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